After The Honeymoon
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: When the wedding is over, that's when the fun really begins.
1. After the Honeymoon

**After the Honeymoon - Prologue**

She had run out on him.

Jason scowled and stared hard out the tinted windows of the black Continental as it drove slowly down the street in the middle of Brooklyn. Max and Ritchie fidgeted in the car, making sure to sit as far away from him as possible, and stared out the opposite windows. Francis was driving extra slowly, just so they'd be able to peer into the dim alleys and doorways in case she was hiding or passing through there.

Elizabeth Webber – no, scratch that, Elizabeth _Morgan _– had run out on him.

He never would have thought her capable of it.

All he knew was that she was there one night, brushing her teeth in the bathroom in the hallway, dressed in those soft, silky, modest pink pajamas he loved, and the next morning she was gone. Most of her things remained, like her collection of shoes (even though he thought he spotted a few conspicuously missing pairs of Manolo's and Jimmy Choo's…and his masculinity must also have been missing if he even remembered the names of those designers), and most of her books including the textbooks she had been using during her second year in college, right before they had married, and almost all of her clothes.

But the little things were gone. She had taken the Badgely Mischka original she had purchased with her last paycheck (as her husband, he took care of all her expenses once they married and so she really had very little to do with her own money but spend it on these things). The stuffed monkey that a three-year-old Michael Stone Corinthos had presented her with in Sonny's penthouse on the night she became Mrs. Morgan was no longer sitting on top of her bureau. The Yankee's cap that Ritchie had bought for her as a souvenir when the guards took her to her first ball game was missing, as was the Swarovski crystal-encrusted hand-mirror ("the magic mirror," he had once heard her call it when she thought he wasn't home) that Brenda had given to her on her birthday as some kind of inside joke they both shared.

Also gone was the piece of red glass she kept on her windowsill. She always tried so hard to make it look like she left it there and never touched it, but he had seen her admiring it and rolling it around in her palms more times than he could count. And he wasn't fully sure yet – more like hopeful – but he thought that the old black t-shirt he'd once lent to her so she could sleep in it was gone.

And in a situation as terrifying and maddening as this, that gave him a small measure of peace.

"Turning on Jefferson," Francis mumbled into the speaker that connected the front of the car with the tinted back. "Lots of little alleys and shops here, so keep an eye out. Maybe Eliz – Er, Mrs. Morgan is passing through. This is roughly the area where Spinelli said she turned up on security footage, so she can't be too far out yet."

Jason was fairly sure that he'd ground his teeth to powder by this point. And it was all the little wife's fault. He swore that once he got her home, he'd tie her to the bed if that was what it took to keep her from going out and making trouble.

"I don't see her," Ritchie admitted quietly, straining to search his side of the street. "She really must not want to be found."

Max glanced over at Jason, knowing his boss wouldn't take that remark kindly, and gulped when he saw that he had been right. Jason snarled and glared out the window, though both men wondered if he even saw anything at all.

"I can't believe she did this."

Max Giambetti was a sensible man and as such, he was perfectly content and willing to remain silent at such a remark. Ritchie SanMarco, however, opened his mouth and removed all hope that he could, on his best day, perhaps be a sensible man as well.

"You can't believe she did this, or that she had the guts to?"

Jason turned his head slowly, every muscle stiff, his eyes as cold and hard as steel, and looked directly at the guard. To his credit – and again, proving that he didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of ever being considered a sensible man – Ritchie didn't flinch or look away.

"I'm not saying this as Elizabeth's guard, or someone that works for you," he continued slowly. "I'm saying this as your friend."

He remained silent for a long moment, waiting for Jason to say something, but received only that glacial scowl. With a sigh, Ritchie scrubbed a hand over his face and raised his weary eyes to his boss's once more.

"Jase, she was so unhappy."

And remarkably enough, that was what got a reaction. Jason swore and swung back around to look out the window, this time more urgent in his quest to find her among the rest of the pedestrians out running errands on a brisk fall morning.

He knew he hadn't been the best husband to her. Hell, it was hard to be 'the best husband' when one wasn't planning on being a husband at all.

Marrying Elizabeth had been…what had he called it? Unfortunate. Yes, that was exactly what he told Sonny right after Father Coates bid them goodnight and Brenda escorted Elizabeth across the hall to give her a quick tour of Penthouse II.

Marrying Elizabeth Webber had been most unfortunate.

It wasn't supposed to have even happened. And it wouldn't, if that goddamn Manny Ruiz had realized that by kidnapping Michael Corinthos III, he would be signing his own death warrant.

It was about two weeks after Michael had been snatched from the playground. Spinelli had been working around the clock to find his employer's little boy, and Sonny had been frantic holding himself, the business, and his wife together during the ordeal. Then he got his big break: a dock worker in Boston had spotted a boy matching Michael's description in the company of several men along the St. Charles River waterfront.

They had left for Massachusetts within the hour. By early morning, they were already combing the waterfront and it wasn't until they reached the campus of Boston University that they found the clue they'd been searching for. Along with something a little unexpected.

Michael's shoe.

There it was, sitting in the middle of the alley. Just waiting for them.

Jason remembered too well how it felt to see that little tennis sneaker. Michael was a smart boy – far too smart for his own good – and he wouldn't have crossed out the possibility that the little guy had taken off his shoe and let it drop in the alley on purpose. Kind of like the kids in that Hansel and Gretel story Brenda and Sonny always read him at night.

The unexpected clue was a woman's charm necklace bearing only the letter E, found not too far away from the shoe, both items perilously close to the choppy, frigid waters of the St. Charles River.

They had found Michael that night. He was being held hostage by his kidnappers, but when Jason and the guards came upon them, the boy was actually being held in the arms of a petite brunette who couldn't possibly have been more than twenty years of age. She was wearing a BU sweatshirt and a pair of skinny jeans with a hole at the knee, and she had a shiny bruise on her cheek. Michael was curled up against her, huddled under her chin, and he stayed there the whole ride home.

And when Sonny and Brenda told him the following day that his uncle Jason had fallen head over heels in love with the woman that had risked her life and been kidnapped trying to save his, Michael had grinned his cheeky little grin and declared that he knew all along that was bound to happen.

But the little boy's dreams for his uncle and new aunt were just that – only dreams. Because the truth of the matter was that Jason hadn't fallen head over heels in love with the mousy Art major from Boston University. And he hadn't wanted to marry her. And when he joined her in his penthouse that night, he hadn't slipped into her bed. And he never planned on doing so.

Their marriage was difficult.

Everyone knew it. Sonny knew it, and did his best to keep his mouth shut and not bring it up. Brenda knew it, and always made sure to invite Elizabeth along with her on her many shopping trips and lunches at Kelly's. Spinelli knew it, and went out of his way to be his normal goofy, endearing self in hopes of winning the Intrepid Elizabeth over. The guards all knew it, and they similarly went out of their way to distract her from her sham of a domestic life.

But all that mattered was that no one else knew it.

In public, they were the perfect couple. She was his trophy wife, and she was always on his arm in a new designer gown and expensive jewelry whenever there was a society function to attend. She got along very well with his grandmother and sister, the only two family members he gave a damn about, and convinced them of her happy married life by knowing exactly how Jason took his tea, and by sharing a few giggles over a picture of him in that infernal reindeer sweater. To the rest of the town and to the rest of New England, Mister and Mrs. Morgan were the picture of domestic bliss.

In private, however, they could barely stand to be in the same room. She was afraid of what he did for a living – afraid of what it meant for her safety, he assumed. She didn't like the desolate look of the penthouse and remedied that by decorating her guest bedroom the way she wanted. She hated the people of Port Charles and abhorred society functions.

He, on the other hand, hated the music she listened to. It was some absurd blend of punk rock, indie, and extra whiny. He didn't like how she always put her hair back in a messy ponytail, especially when she had such beautiful curls. He didn't care about art, which he soon learned was her passion and possibly her reason for living. And he was just as much a loner as she was.

Their match was an unfortunate one.

And that was why the horror and the anguish that tore through him when he woke up and found her diamond-framed sapphire wedding bands and a signed copy of annulment papers resting on the pillow next to his surprised him to his very core.

Because he wasn't supposed to be afraid for her.

He wasn't supposed to care for her.

And he certainly wasn't supposed to need her.

It was really quite unfortunate for the both of them that he did. Unfortunate for him in that he certainly never wanted to feel this way about any woman and unfortunate for her because she certainly wouldn't know how to deal with knowing the truth about his feelings.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was finding her, pulling her off the damn street where any damned sniper could just pick her off, and taking her back home where she belonged.

That was all Jason wanted to think about. He didn't particularly want to think about the danger she was in; he certainly didn't want to think about what it would mean if he couldn't find her; and he definitely didn't want to think about how chronically unhappy he had made her as her husband.

"Just shut your damn mouth and keep looking."

Ritchie opened his mouth – really, would the guy ever learn? – and was just about to say something when Francis's voice cut through to the back. "There she is! I see her! There's Elizabeth, five o'clock, in the gray pullover!"

Jason swung around and peered anxiously in the direction Francis had specified, and a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders when he saw her walking down the street, dressed in her old sneakers and her BU emblazoned fleece pullover, sipping her coffee. She always had a weakness for pumpkin lattes.

He was out before Francis could fully stop the car at the curb, and Jason sprinted down the street in his black jeans and heavy black overcoat, not particularly caring that he jostled the other pedestrians that yelled obscenities at his back. She was walking just ahead of him, a curious spring in her step, the wind playing with her curls, completely unassuming…

His hand closed around her arm.

Before she could scream, Jason swooped forward and used the other hand to grab the latte that she almost dropped. With her sandwiched in his embrace, he continued to walk her casually down the street at her normal pace while Francis turned the car around and idled it up to them.

"You're pretty far from home."

She was too smart to scream or run away, God bless her.

"Not far enough."

He ignored her and reached for her latte. Plucking it easily out of her hand, he dropped it in a nearby trash bin and ushered her toward the curb where Ritchie was opening the back door of the Continental.

"I wanted that," Elizabeth frowned, trying to turn around and look back at the garbage can, as if doing so would cause her seasonal coffee blend to return to her.

"You were done with it," he informed her briskly, giving her a not-so-gentlemanly little shove toward the car. Ritchie caught her hand, and Jason could have sworn he saw the younger guard flash the still-Mrs. Morgan a regretful look before he pulled her into the car. Jason slipped in behind her and pulled the door shut, rapping on the window with his knuckles to let Francis know to pick up speed and get the hell out of here.

Trapped inside the car now, Elizabeth yanked her hand free from Ritchie and scooted back across the seat, as far as she could, until she was pressed up against the right rear door. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had no intention of making this easy for them.

Max and Ritchie remained silent, which was funny to Jason because just a few minutes ago those two idiots couldn't keep their opinions to themselves. Instead, they had the nerve to look almost apologetic – no, forget that, they were apologetic! To his wife! The one who left him!

He scowled at her, not surprised when she frowned right back. "We're going home."

Her eyes narrowed and she jerked her thumb toward the back windshield. "Massachusetts Turnpike is that way."

"Elizabeth."

"Jason," she mimicked, doing a pitiful imitation of him. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

His blood began to hum hot and loud in his ears; her righteous indignation had a habit of getting to him every single damn time. "I came to bring my _wife _home."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, her chin dipping down slightly. "You didn't sign the papers."

Max and Ritchie looked at him questioningly, but Jason had quite frankly forgotten their presence. "No."

"Why not?" she burst out, throwing her hands in the air and then bringing them down on the leather with a smack. "Jason, that would have been the answer to all our problems."

Not realizing that Max and Ritchie were staring at him, waiting to be let in on the juicy gossip, Jason scowled at his little missus. "How would annulment papers have solved our problems?"

"Because the threat has passed," she emphasized wearily. "The Five Families all believed that our marriage was legitimate thanks to the show we put on at my birthday party. And they helped you and Sonny deal with Manny Ruiz. He's gone, Jason. There's no need for us to stay in this marriage."

A cold feeling began to grow and spread in the pit of his stomach as Jason realized just how much thought she had given to ending their union. "Elizabeth-"

"Why couldn't you have signed the papers?" she burst out again, looking perilously close to tears. "All you had to do was sign and we would have been free. Jason, this is what we both want more than anything. Think about it: you won't ever have to see me again! Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that isn't what you want?"

Not realizing that his lack of an answer was a negation of her question, Elizabeth rushed on. "We could both be free again, Jason. It would be so easy. I already have my fake papers – I could live the rest of my life as – as Emma Keynes, like it says on my new license. No one would ever find me, if that's what you're worried about. It would be like starting over – like we never met."

Her liquid eyes pleaded with him to reconsider. "Jason, please. It's what we both want."

He felt his face burning, and the car suddenly felt too small. Realizing that he was having a little trouble breathing, Jason coughed and jerkily shifted in his seat so that he was facing forward. Max and Ritchie (perhaps there was hope for him yet) wisely averted their gazes.

"I can't do that," he replied, marveling at how he was able to keep his voice even and clear. "You might think that everything's over, but it's not."

Her lips parted in surprise. "But-"

"It's not up for discussion," Jason interrupted firmly. "You will come back to Port Charles with me. You'll stay at Harborview Towers and we'll keep…we will stay in this marriage."

Her eyes were dry now, but Elizabeth's expression was still stricken. "I don't understand-"

"When I feel that the threat's been neutralized, I'll let you know," he told her quietly. "Until then, you'll stay my wife. You will keep up appearances and show the Five Families that despite this…"

"Lover's quarrel?" Ritchie supplied helpfully.

Max closed his eyes. Idiot. Unmitigated idiot.

Jason glared at him. "…that despite this stunt, we're still very much in love."

Elizabeth squared her jaw. "I see."

He nodded, more to himself than at her. "We'll show them and the rest of the town that nothing's changed between us. You will still play the part of Brenda's best friend and Michael's aunt."

Her hand, which had been in her lap, crept toward the armrest on the door. "Yeah."

"And speaking of Michael, we'll explain to him together once we get home that sometimes grown-ups fight, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other." Jason's brain was already itemizing a list of things that needed to be done in order to run damage control on this, and then a list of ways he could possibly get her to understand and get her to change her mind about him and their life together, and then it began ranking those items separately based on order of importance.

"And three nights from tonight, you'll be expected to have dinner with me at the No Name. It'll be just the two of us, not Sonny and Brenda this time, and it'll be our first public appearance together after we get back."

Elizabeth bit her lip and looked out the window.

"And we'll take it from there."

Before Jason could even look over at her to see if she found this even remotely agreeable, Elizabeth's hand was on the door latch and she threw it open, quickly hopping out and rolling to the side of the road to keep from getting hurt.

Ritchie lunged after her, but it was too late. Max pounded on the separator, yelling for Francis to stop and turn it around, and Jason almost fell out of the car when their driver slammed on the brakes.

Max gaped out the open door at Elizabeth's petite frame as she ran like hell down the sidewalk before disappearing into one of the dark alleys, safely hidden from view.

"Damn. She must _really _not want to be married to you."


	2. A Man's Opinion

**Prompt - "I never said he was my dearest love." Buttercup in 'The Princess Bride'**

**Note **– This takes place BEFORE Elizabeth Morgan jumps out of a moving car to get away from her husband.

**1**

"Can I ask your help on something?"

Jason barely glanced up from the file he was leafing through. "What?"

With his eyes glued to the sheet in front of him, he didn't see his wife trouble her lower lip as she leaned against the doorjamb leading into the bathroom in their master bedroom. "…What should I wear tonight?"

Ten seconds ticked by without a sound and Elizabeth let out a little huff. She hated when he got this way. "Jason, you said I could ask for your help – the least you can do is listen to me."

His eyes flicked up from the file on Zacchara that Spinelli had just run off for him, but then flicked right back just when she thought she had a shot at actually holding his attention for once. "Wear whatever you want."

She rolled her eyes, knowing that he wouldn't see that gesture, either. "That doesn't help. You're the one that's supposed to be throwing this surprise party for me, and I'm not supposed to even know about it. So are you throwing a cocktail type party? Can I wear a knee-length dress? Or should I opt for a full-length gown? Would that be overkill? Would a skirt work? Or would that be too casual?"

His eyes continued skimming the report, line after line. Apparently, Anthony had come into some new holdings about a year ago and was now looking to make some organizational changes in his business. Interesting…

"Jason!"

Her husband let out an irritated snort. _"What_?"

Elizabeth's lips settled into a grim line. She just didn't understand why she and her husband couldn't have the simplest conversation together. After all, to the eyes of everyone in Port Charles they were perfectly married, perfectly blissful, the perfect couple in every way.

It was only too bad that it was this hard once they were alone.

"Didn't you hear a word of what I just said?"

A piece of his hair fell into his face as he once again returned his attention to the report. "Yeah. Wear whatever you want."

She resisted the urge to pound her fist against the doorframe, and when she spoke she was fairly certain he didn't catch the way her voice wavered. That was something to be thankful for. "Jason, I'm just asking for a little help. A point in the right direction."

"I don't know why women make such a big deal about clothes," he muttered, leaning back in his seat and grasping his ankle at his knee. "Whatever you wear, it'll be fine. It's your party and you're my wife – no one would say anything even if you showed up naked."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not my point – that's not my point at all! I don't want to be the only girl in a short dress if every other woman shows up in a full-length gown. It makes me look cheap and like a trophy wife. More so than I already am," she added under her breath.

He hadn't heard her. No surprise there. "Then wear a long dress."

"If I wear a long dress and the other women are in cocktail dresses, I'll look out of place," she explained slowly. "You already told me how important it is for me to always look put together, to never look out of place. That whole speech made up the majority of your wedding vows."

He glared at her sharply.

She arched a brow and folded her arms over her chest. "Well?"

"Don't wear a dress that's too short."

Elizabeth would have rolled her eyes, but at least he was trying to be helpful in his usual curt, oafish way. "Okay, so a full-length gown. I just got a designer one the other day. It's dark blue – that should work. Got kind of a train to it, too."

"Don't wear one that's too long, either."

She stopped on her way into the bathroom, her back toward him. Son of a _bitch_. 

"Would you like to make up your mind?"

Jason let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I told you, whatever you wear is _fine_. Don't wear one too short that makes you look cheap, and don't wear one too long that makes you look like you're getting married again."

Her lips curled into a derisive sneer. She'd gotten married in her blue jeans, the ones with the hole at the knee and the dirt stain on the other knee from the time that one of Michael's kidnappers had knocked her down. She still couldn't get it out no matter how many times she washed them.

"It's not that hard," he continued, still leafing through the report. "I don't know why you're stressing about it. Brenda's the same way."

"Brenda's the same way about what?" the woman in question asked, poking her head into the master bedroom that the celibate couple shared. "Hey, kids. Just wanted to see how everyone was doing before the big party."

Jason pulled a face. "The hell's that on your face?"

"It's cold cream, idiot, it keeps me pretty." She skewered him with a glare when Jason had the nerve to snort. "How's our birthday girl?"

Elizabeth managed a weak smile even though all she really felt like doing was screaming. "Hey, Bren."

Her almost sister-in-law's lips parted. "Oh, no. Oh, honey, what's wrong? Jason, you moron, what did you say to her?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth was quick to get out. "Nothing, he didn't do anything. I'm just a little…I have no idea what to wear."

Jason glared at Brenda as if to say, _See?_

Brenda glared right back. "Don't look so cocky, Jason. It might not have been your fault this time, but it almost always is."

"Brenda, please," the younger brunette cajoled. "Forget it. Can you help me out? What are you wearing?"

"I haven't decided yet," she replied with a shrug. "I'll either go with my shiny new Marc Jacobs little black dress, or something a little glitzier."

"I don't want mine to be anything too sparkly," Elizabeth mumbled, absently tugging on the corner of her sleeve. She hated sparkly. She hated anything that actually drew people's attention toward her. Ah, the perks of being a wallflower.

Brenda looked at her in surprise. "But it's a sparkly party. Didn't you see the invitation?"

Elizabeth glanced at Jason, who remained suspiciously silent. "No one _showed _me the invitation."

"It's a sparkly party," Brenda confirmed. "That's what I put on the invitations right before I had Jason run them off to our printer. The dress code for the men is a simple black suit with a white shirt, no tux, and the women are all supposed to wear something sparkly. That's the point of a sparkly party!"

"But why are we having a sparkly party?"

"Because it's your birthday and you should sparkle," Brenda explained. "Jason? Shouldn't she sparkle?"

"She should sparkle," Jason confirmed in a dull voice. Frankly, he didn't sound all that interested in sparkles.

The two brunettes rolled their eyes in almost comic unison. "Well, he's of no help. So let me see what I can come up with. You have any specific dresses in mind? They gotta be sparkly, remember."

"I remember," Elizabeth sighed, letting Brenda drag her over to the closet that, thanks to Jason and his insistence that she look a certain way, was practically bulging with designer gowns and overpriced jeans and the like. "I don't have anything in mind."

"You should wear something longish," Brenda announced. "But not too long."

Elizabeth glared at the back of her husband's head. "Yeah, that seems to be a popular opinion."

"How about this one?"

"Ick. Too sparkly. I don't know what Dior was thinking. His designs are usually so clean cut, too."

"See, you're learning," Brenda grinned, flipping right past it and onto the next dress as if she were flipping through a deck of cards. A deck of cards that easily cost ten times as much as Elizabeth's college education. "When you got here, you couldn't tell a Dior from a Badgley Mischka. And you thought a Wang was something dirty."

Elizabeth blushed, remembering the time Brenda had marched into Penthouse II with Jason, who had been laden down with bags upon bags of women's gowns and men's suits alike from the designer boutiques in New York. "Well, when you asked me if I liked the Wang on Jason, what was I supposed to think?"

Jason grunted and settled down more firmly in his chair, almost as if trying to disappear from view. 

"Okay, how about this one?"

"Would such a bright red be okay, do you think?"

Brenda turned around. "Jason, do you think red would be okay? She's the girl of the hour, after all."

His lips pinched into a frown. "I don't care."

"What about this one?" Elizabeth wanted to know. "It's sparkly."

"Sparkly and black," Brenda corrected. "That's very last year. We'll find you something better."

"What about this one?"

"Ooh, I like that."

Elizabeth turned around this time. "Jason, what about this one?"

Her husband gritted his teeth. "It's fine."

"I think we can do better," Brenda murmured. "Let's look at this one."

"Ooh, I like this one."

"Hey, what about this one?"

"I like that one, too. Which one looks better?"

"Well, this color looks better on you, but this one makes you look like you've got breasts."

Jason clenched his file in his hands as Elizabeth let out an appreciative cluck. "Let's go with the second one."

"Hey, what about this one? It's a pretty color _and _it gives you the illusion of huge cans."

"She doesn't have small cans," Jason heard himself retorting just before his brain kicked in and wanted to know just what the hell he thought he was doing.

Brenda snorted. "Don't say cans, Jason. Ugh, really."

"Maybe I should go with this one."

"It's a bit long, don't you think?"

"Not too long, right?"

"It has a train."

"Only because of the asymmetrical hem."

Brenda let out a sigh. "Jason, what do you think? Elizabeth, show him that one."

"Wait, this one, too. Jason, if you had to pick between these two, which one?"

"No, not that one. Hold up this one. It'll look great with your eyes."

"Jason? You said you'd help."

"Jason? For God's sake, put that thing down and look at us! The least you could do is help your wife pick out a dress for the party _you're _supposedly throwing for her!"

"No, Brenda, really, it's okay, he looks busy. It's fine, I'll just pick."

"No, no, that's what husbands are for, to harass. Jason, you idiot, look at us."

"No, Brenda, really-"

"Fine!" Jason stood up so abruptly he nearly knocked the chair over. "You wanna know what I think? I don't care. Just pick a damn dress and wear it. I told you that whatever you wore would be fine – I _told _you it would be fine. So just pick a dress! I honestly don't care if you show up naked!"

And with that, he snatched his report from the desk and stormed out of the room, leaving Elizabeth to stare after him. When they heard him slamming things around downstairs, she let out a little groan and sank onto the chair by her vanity table. 

"I made him angry again."

Brenda tapped her finger to her lips, her eyes slowly lighting up. With a little smirk, she reached into the closet and pulled out an exquisitely beaded, nude-colored, sleeveless calf-length gown. "Actually, he just gave me a great idea."


	3. Wardrobe Malfunction

**Prompt – Mating Calls and Fight Songs**

**2**

The grand ballroom at Grey Stone Manor had been decorated especially for the lavish surprise birthday party that Jason Morgan was throwing his blushing bride. The coordinator had flown in from France and the entire endeavor had taken forty-eight hours of straight work. And finally, on the evening of November 1st, it was all ready for the birthday girl and her adoring husband.

"This is a lovely party you've thrown, Jason," Chloe Morgan beamed, her pale blue eyes glittering as she inspected the elaborate poinsettia-like bouquets that added a festive, wintry feel to the room. "Elizabeth's going to love it."

"Where is she?" Jax wanted to know. "It's her party, after all."

"Brenda's bringing her by," Jason replied, making sure to keep it casual. After all, he was playing the doting husband about to pull off a lovely surprise for his dearest wife. He had to be a bit smug about it if the act was to work. "She told her that we're just having a little family dinner here. They're upstairs getting ready. She has no idea any of this is here. Or anyone."

"I have to ask, what's with the poinsettias?"

He shrugged. "Elizabeth loves winter. And Christmas. And she grew up in Colorado, then moved to Massachusetts. Lots of blizzards. So I thought she'd like a Christmas look."

His cousin smiled. "That was very nice of you, Jason. I don't think I've ever seen you like this."

He tried not to fidget. "Like what?"

"Human," Jax smirked, trying not to laugh. _"Nice_."

Jason scowled. "I can be nice."

"No, you can't," Chloe informed him with a sympathetic pat on the arm and her typical cheery smile. "Not to anyone that isn't your best friend or your wife. And Jason?"

He gave her a bland look. "Hm?"

"I'm so glad you married her." She gave his arm just a little squeeze, the closest thing to a hug he'd ever accept from anyone that shared Quartermaine blood. "The family wasn't sure about her when they first heard the news, but I think she's a wonderful girl. And I've never seen you happier than when you're with her."

Jason's eyes softened and he dipped his head in the slightest of nods. "Thank you."

His cousin beamed again – honestly, the woman constantly glowed and it was getting to be annoying sometimes – and slipped her arm in her fiancé's, and the two were off to mingle with the rest of the guests before the birthday girl made her appearance.

"Sandoval at five o'clock," Sonny murmured, coming up from behind him. "Don't look."

Jason was too clever to even think of doing so. "Anything?"

His best friend shrugged. "He just got here. Made some remark about not seeing your blushing bride. Listen, I have a feeling he's going to try to corner you tonight. Of all the Family heads, he's the one that least believes in this sham."

"Not so loud," Jason hissed. "What about the others?"

"Tagliati's thrilled for you and thinks it's a wonderful match." Sonny paused to pop his first button. "But Tagliati's also stupid."

A thin smile curled Jason's lip. "And?"

"Sorel's a little suspicious, but he's not brave enough to share his doubts with anyone," his best friend continued. "We'll win him over by the end of the night, I'm sure of it. As long as you and Elizabeth do your part, I mean."

"We will," Jason murmured. "That's a given."

"Roscoe seems to be buying into it." Sonny cleared his throat and dropped his voice when the man in question passed by. "But he just recently remarried – Faith, I think, she's here tonight, too – and he's always been a pretty private guy. Even if he does think it's a sham, he'll keep it to himself. But I think he's just stupid enough to be in love with his wife, so that kind of romantic feeling is clouding his judgment."

Jason rolled his eyes, knowing that Sonny was mocking him. "Anything else?"

"From what Spinelli tells me, Salvatore buys into this completely. He's your biggest supporter."

"How does Spinelli know that?"

"He's friends with Salvatore's computer kid, Croscetti."

"Ah."

"Anyway, it makes sense. He's the oldest. He remembers you from when you first came to work for me, still thinks of you as a kid. And Elizabeth's about the same age and build as his youngest daughter, so it all makes him happy. He likes that you're settling down and planning a family."

Sonny gestured emptily as Jason choked on air. "What can I say? He's old."

"Jason – ah, there you are."

The old man they'd just been discussing had found them at last in the ballroom. "I wanted to be the first of us to congratulate you."

He arched a brow. "On what?"

"Your marriage, of course."

Sonny tried not to smile as Jason eyed the old mobster. "But we've been married for a while now, and you've already congratulated us. You sent Elizabeth those flowers."

"No, that was when I congratulated you on your _wedding_," Don Salvatore corrected with a warm smile. "I congratulate you now on your marriage."

Jason looked at Sonny who only shrugged in reply. "…I didn't know the two were different."

He let out a gruff laugh. "Oh, you're still young, so I'll forgive you for that. You'll learn soon enough. A wedding is a ceremony, Jason. A wedding was you and Elizabeth and Michael and Brenda standing before the priest, exchanging vows."

Jason tried not to fidget as he remembered that night. The only vow he'd focused on was 'to protect,' and everyone in the room had known it.

"A marriage," the old man continued, gesturing to the ballroom, "is _this_."

Jason looked around. "This is a party."

Don Salvatore was well used to this literalism and managed a beleaguered smile. "Not so. Let me ask you something, Jason. Where would you rather be, right now?"

This had to be a trick. "…Having dinner with my wife."

He arched a brow. "Try again."

"…Dancing with my wife."

Again he shook his head. "Be honest, Jason."

So Jason Morgan, for the first time in weeks, let out a sigh and replied with complete and total honesty, without even pausing to think about it. "I'd rather be sitting on the couch watching the game, drinking beer, with Elizabeth reading a book next to me."

That got a smile. "But you're not. You're here, throwing your wife a surprise birthday party that you know she'll love, even though it's not exactly your idea of a good time."

"I'm happy to do it," he replied defensively. God, he'd known this was a trap and he'd walked right into it.

"I know," Don Salvatore replied lightly. "You are. And that's what a marriage is, Jason. And I congratulate you for it."

He gave him an almost paternal clap on the back and nodded once. "Marriage is full of sacrifice. It's full of miscommunication…or a lack of communication. And it's full of misunderstandings. And if it's full of moments in which one partner does something simply to please the other, nothing more and nothing less, it's a _good _marriage. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Jason nodded weakly. "…Yeah."

"You understand your wife very well," Don Salvatore added, as if his earlier bit hadn't been ironic enough. "I could see it the first night you introduced us. No one else but Tagliati saw it; they all thought I was crazy. You care about this girl, Jason, that was apparent to me from the start. And I like to think that you've come to the point where her happiness means more to you than your own."

He eased forward another step and dropped his voice so Sonny had to lean in and hear. "Because the Jason Morgan I know is just like me and would rather shoot himself in the foot than attend a party like this, much less throw one, and yet here we are."

Jason stared at him, shocked, while Sonny slowly began to grin.

"Don Salvatore?"

"Yes, Michael?"

"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite?"

------------------------------

"Where is that girl?"

"Oh, Edward, relax," Lila scolded. "You always become like this whenever we go out."

"The invitation said to arrive at eight," the old man blustered, glaring at Jason who he had unfortunately trapped in conversation. "It is now eight-fifteen."

"The invitation said to _arrive _at eight," Lila agreed, "but it also read that the guest of honor would not arrive until eight-thirty, and that we would enjoy our drinks and appetizers until then. So do be patient."

"You shouldn't have married a girl that's so tardy, Jason." Edward shook his head, looking quite aggrieved. "It's a horrible, horrible trait."

"Don't listen to him, dear," his grandmother smiled. "He forgets sometimes that he's lucky even to be invited."

Jason had to smile at that. "I wanted you to be here, Grandmother. And if that means that he comes, too…"

He glanced at his grandfather and trailed off, his disapproval and displeasure so apparent that Lila actually giggled.

"Is this really a surprise for Elizabeth, Jason?"

He nodded. "Yes. She has no idea. I sent her up through the stairs at the back of the house, and Brenda said she needed some help getting ready. She thinks that it's only the four of us having dinner."

Lila's eyes lit up. "How lovely! Oh, she's sure to love this, Jason. You've put so much thought into all of it."

He tugged on his ear. "I had some help."

"It was your heart behind it," Lila maintained firmly. "You two are an excellent match, Jason, really. I don't care what the others say – I'm so very glad you married her."

Edward snorted. "But she's a nobody. No name, no breeding, no-"

Jason glared at him. "My wife is not a prize hound."

"Well, I know that much," the old man sputtered. "It's just that-"

"You say anything else about her, and Max will throw you out. Clear?"

Lila gave her husband a sharp look before returning her attention to Jason. "Don't you listen to a thing anyone says, dear. Not tonight. Tonight is yours – yours with Elizabeth."

She sighed happily and gave his hand a squeeze. "Oh, darling, she's so perfect for you."

Jason swallowed roughly, absently wondering how his grandmother, who could always read him like an open book, could possibly think to say those things.

"And I hope to be perfect for her."

-----------------------------------

"Everyone, can I have your attention?" Sonny waited until the guests settled down and raised his hand. "My wife will be bringing Elizabeth down shortly. She _hates _the Happy Birthday song, so we'll all have to sing it extra loud, just for her."

The guests, even those that couldn't stand Sonny, chuckled.

"Our servers are bringing around champagne," he added, "so please accept a glass. I will be toasting my sister-in-law, not that any of us need an excuse for champagne."

Jason politely extracted himself from a terse conversation with Don Sandoval, who was acting a bit more like an immigration officer set out to determine the validity of a spousal visa than a guest, and moved closer to Sonny. The other guests parted for him, the picture-perfect husband, and he quickly accepted a flute from one of the passing servers.

"I have no idea what Brenda's wearing," Sonny muttered as the guests began to chat quietly again as they all waited. "I hope she doesn't show up in anything made out of feathers again. I know it's couture, but some of that stuff looks ridiculous. A real woman wouldn't be caught dead in it."

He slipped a sip of his champagne and glanced at his friend. "Elizabeth's wearing something normal, right?"

Some of the guests in attendance began to clear their throats as Jason shrugged. "…I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? I thought you were with her when she was getting ready at the penthouse."

He shrugged again as the entire crowd around them fell almost perfectly silent. "Yeah, but we kind of had a fight."

Sonny's brow jumped. "About what?"

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, she kept asking me what she should wear tonight, and I really didn't care, so I told her…"

"So…you told her what?"

They heard a woman clear her throat, and both men looked up to see Brenda halfway down the stairs with her arm looped through Elizabeth's, who was doing a wonderful job looking perfectly speechless. And Jason was rendered speechless, too, the moment he set eyes on her, but for an entirely different reason.

Elizabeth Imogene Webber – no, _Morgan_, he was always forgetting the Morgan – was standing halfway up the stairs, looking down at her guests, wearing nothing at all.

_"Happy birthday to youuuu…"_


	4. Stage Directions

**3**

Okay, so she wasn't naked.

But it sure as hell looked like she was.

Elizabeth Webber – damn it, _Morgan _– was dressed in a fitted, exquisitely beaded gown that showed off her modest cleavage and flared at her hips, tapering off just below her knee, and the reason she looked like she was naked was because the fabric was colored in such a way as to provide that illusion.

Brenda's smile turned sneaky as she maneuvered her way through the crowd and pressed a quick kiss to Jason's cheek. "Doesn't she look nice? Certainly nicer than if she…showed up naked."

His steely eyes flashed, but Jason couldn't tear them from Elizabeth despite his irritation with Brenda. His wife turned and caught his gaze at that exact moment and Jason cringed when she mistook his anger as directed at her and quickly looked away.

Fucking great.

Discreetly, he reached out and grabbed Brenda's arm just hard enough to keep her near him without leaving a bruise. If Sonny saw him man-handling his infuriating little wife like that, he'd have hell to pay. Surprisingly, it all seemed worth it at the moment.

"What. The hell. Did you do?"

Brenda squirmed effortlessly out of his hold and batted her lashes, taking his champagne glass from him and holding it to her lips. "I helped your wife get ready for the surprise party you were throwing her."

Jason snarled, then remembered himself and cleared his throat. "She looks – she looks –"

"She looks absolutely gorgeous," Brenda interrupted breezily, the tone of her voice making it clear she was leaving no room for argument. And as if that wasn't emasculating enough, being told off by a slip of a woman that barely came up to one's shoulder, she gave him a little shove toward the stairs. "Why don't you go tell her you think so? You big ape."

He was already moving, so there was hardly any getting out of it now. The guests had just finished singing happy birthday and were all clapping along with Sonny while Elizabeth grinned modestly.

Jason envied that about his friend: no matter the situation, he appeared so at ease it was just disgusting. Even now, he had his hand affectionately on Elizabeth's shoulder and was whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, and then he leaned down and kissed her temple, making a show of grinning and passing her hand to Jason when he saw the younger man approach.

Elizabeth's smile remained firmly in place. It was the smile she displayed at all of their society functions, her Trophy Wife smile. She wore it well.

Now it was time for their act.

His eyes softened in the way that the other men laughed at behind his back, his typical doting husband look. She was waiting for him, that aching smile perfectly in place, and Jason linked his fingers with hers and pulled her just close enough without the moment being indecent. He could never forget that they were always being watched, after all. All of the guests, and especially the heads of the five Families, were focused on them.

He leaned close enough to whisper something in her ear – he had no idea what he said, just that he said something – and Elizabeth, clever little actress that she was, actually simulated a rosy blush. He heard some stupid woman behind him "aww" at the little exchange.

And Jason didn't quite know why he did what he did next. There was no logical explanation for it, and he certainly hadn't prepared Elizabeth for it. They had their key 'couple' moves when they were in public, and this wasn't one of them.

He could see the surprise in Elizabeth's eyes when his grip on her hand became stronger and his other arm slipped around her waist, and his wife let out a breathy little gasp when he spun her behind him and dipped her effortlessly, then tilted his head down to brush his lips against hers.

She really was a clever little actress. Elizabeth placed one hand on his shoulder for purchase and used the other to stroke his hair back as he kissed her chastely on the mouth while the guests tittered in appreciation. That was what this was all about, after all: being the performing seals for an undeserving public.

Jason righted her but kept his arm around her waist and his mouth close to her ear; he had discovered that was the best way to ease out of an intimate moment without it seeming odd or forced. A few secret nothings whispered in her ear, her light little laugh, and they were good.

"What are you wearing?"

Elizabeth kept her smile in place as Sonny fumbled into the beginning of his toast. "Brenda picked it out."

His grip on her hip tightened. "Yeah, she would."

She didn't quite know what to say to that and, smart girl that she was, she just smiled and leaned into his loose embrace as Sonny called for everyone's attention.

The five Family heads were the ones that listened most attentively to the mobster's celebratory toast. People had a way of hanging on to Sonny's every word in general, whether due to his power, his reputation, his wealth or his charisma, but the other mob lords in the room looked to be in such deep concentration that it was as if they were taking dictation.

Sonny hit all of the points he knew he needed to in order to impart the proper image of his brother and new sister-in-law. He made sure to mention that this entire party was all of Jason's doing because he had once heard Elizabeth casually mention that her parents were always too busy to celebrate birthdays in their house, and the most she'd ever gotten was a muffin with a candle wedged into it the day she turned eighteen. Consequently, that was the day she'd moved out and transferred to another university far, far away from Boulder, but Sonny didn't feel the need to mention this.

And of course, everyone was waiting for some sort of sweet newlywed moment after the toast, and Jason and Elizabeth had no choice to oblige. Public displays of affection had become almost second nature to them by now, as they were crucial to securing protection for Elizabeth throughout the East Coast. The Five Families protected their own, but they weren't fully convinced that Elizabeth was one of 'their own' yet, and Sonny and Jason knew they had to work quickly to cement the validity of this marriage because Manny Ruiz was steadily gaining power and if he made a move, there was a chance they wouldn't be able to hold him off on their own.

And so Elizabeth really had no choice but to wipe away the first sign of a stray tear, gently grasp her husband's lapel as she pushed herself up on her toes in those ridiculous stiletto heels that Brenda no doubt scrounged up just to torture him, and kissed him soundly. That was exactly what Jason told himself as he tried to remember not to enjoy it as much as he was.

Sonny saved them by announcing that it was time to get the party started. They had an open bar, plenty of food, and a live band, and everyone should relax and enjoy themselves in honor of the newest member of the Morgan-Corinthos family.

It would have been easy to deflect attention and disappear into their own circle of friends – granted, Jason's circle consisted of most of the men in the room and Elizabeth only had Brenda and maybe one or two other women – but his stupidly well-meaning cousin Chloe had to go and start the demand for the first dance with the birthday girl. Her argument persisted even though Jason tried to quiet her; after all, Chloe said, none of them were present for the wedding, so they didn't get to see the bride and groom dance then. They'd have to make up for it now.

Sonny didn't open his mouth to protest along with Jason. It would simply have been too suspicious, and another nail in the coffin that was the sham-marriage. Brenda, wisely assessing the situation, quickly joined the clamor and clapped when Jason led his wife onto the center of the dance floor, then immediately tugged on Sonny's hand and followed.

That clever move spurred some of the other couples in attendance to do the same, but the dance room was still more sparsely populated than Jason would have liked. He hated dancing in public and preferred it when he couldn't be clearly seen on the floor. Still, Elizabeth's dress was going a long way in distracting him.

She didn't say a word when he drew her into his arms. She didn't smile, she didn't sigh, she barely breathed. The corner of Jason's mouth twitched, and he belatedly realized that he'd been hoping for _some _sort of reaction. It was getting kind of insulting, her refusal to react to him.

He had heard her mention to Brenda once that girls like her didn't _date _men like him, and that if they had met randomly on the street he wouldn't have given her a second thought. Therefore, it was hard to get used to him or even _accept _him in his new role as husband or, even worse, mate.

Jason's lips settled into a grim line and he drew her just a little closer, just a little out of her comfort zone. Her eyes flew to hers, but since just about every other pair of eyes in the room was focused on her, there was little else she could do. 

Jason arched a brow – so slightly and quickly it looked like a tic – and splayed his hand at the base of her back before smoothing it just a little lower over that damn nude-colored gown of hers, gratified when he heard her breath flutter into a small gasp. 

The power struggle was one of their public intimate moments; the domination he exercised was what everyone else saw as the touch of a loving husband. When he led her in the slow, swaying dance, it wasn't difficult for a voyeuristic gaze to understand how the movement of their bodies together could translate into a different dance altogether. When she let him take the lead and gave in to his advances, it wasn't difficult to imagine how she might give in to him another way and not only allow him his advances but to share in them. And when he tilted his head down to hers and his lips passed within a scant distance of hers, it wasn't difficult at all to see the heat of their embrace and the passion of their touch.

Sonny Corinthos saw all of this as he danced with his wife. A man in his position didn't get very far without keeping careful watch of all around him. So he watched Jason, he watched the way Elizabeth reacted to Jason, he watched the way the Family heads watched them, and he watched his feet so he wouldn't step on those of his wife.

And what he saw pleased him: not one of the Family heads appeared to see through the smoke and heat to the sterile marriage underneath. 

Jason and Elizabeth separated as soon as the dance was over. Brenda facilitated this, naturally. She simply took Elizabeth's arm and tugged her away from Jason, chattering all the while, so that Jason and Elizabeth's separation wouldn't look awkward. Once his wife had been drawn away, Jason headed over to the bar with Spinelli and Sonny retreated to a small group of the Family heads, making the obligatory jokes about Jason being a typical besotted husband.

The two of them had agreed the night of his marriage that the image of the doting, smitten, whipped husband was important. There was no way that such an image would overcome Jason; after all, it was so contrary to his personal nature. But they decided it should be clear that when he was in his wife's presence, she consumed him. And if that meant absent touches, longing looks, and occasional preoccupation, that was what Jason would do.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, and both husband and wife kept up the act. They'd become quite skilled at it by now and could maneuver through the different expectations easily. They pretended to awkwardly bump legs under the table at dinner, they shared secret smiles at the oddest and most random of things, and every so often Jason would look at her, quirk a smile, and Elizabeth would blush perfectly on cue.

The guests ate it all up, as they'd predicted. Brenda, who was nothing short of an excellent mingler, would bring back reports of the Quartermaines, the Scorpios, the Spencers, and the other prominent families all raving about the beautiful couple and how well Elizabeth fit in with their group. The Five Family heads were also swayed by the grand deception and Sonny played on their gradually dissipating insecurities as only he could.

Jason made sure he was in eyeshot of Don Sandoval and, coming up on his wife from behind, brushed his fingertips over her elbow. Elizabeth turned, pretending to the be startled, and she smiled and leaned into him as he tipped his head lower and whispered something scandalous in her ear that only made her smile widen.

He knew they had a small audience when he tipped his head toward the balcony, and Elizabeth slipped her hand in his and together they not-so-discreetly slipped off. After that, it was a cinch that they would be spotted on the balcony, exchanging kisses and stolen words under the moonlight.

End scene, exit stage right.

Except that for once, it didn't entirely play out the way it was planned.

"How's it going out there?" Elizabeth wanted to know as Jason's large hands spanned her narrow waist. Her breath hitched in her throat when his lips found the spot just under her ear that, unbeknownst to him, hopefully, drove her absolutely wild. She let out a little whimper and sank into his embrace, and Jason's lips moved to the delicate shell of her ear.

"Good," he replied quietly, his hand moving in slow, large, hot circles over the small of her back as Elizabeth fisted his lapels for purchase. "We've almost got them sold on this."

"Oh?" It almost turned into a moan when his tongue flicked her lobe and then his teeth rasped against it. "How do you mean?"

"You did good," he murmured in reply, nuzzling her neck now and entirely oblivious to the way his cousin Chloe peeked out at them, muffled a giggle, and ducked right back into the main house. "You did real good. Sandoval told Sonny that even though he had his doubts before…"

Jason trailed off and straightened, his eyes sweeping over her flushed skin, her starry eyes, and her swollen lips. Tilting his head down, he used his thumb to lift her chin and kissed her soundly on the lips, taking his time alternately nibbling on and soothing her raw lips.

She responded beautifully to him, and Jason tried hopelessly to ignore the way his blood hummed hot in his veins. She'd been slowly driving him to the edge all night, every time she smiled at him or blushed, every time he caught a whiff of her perfume, every time her stocking-clad leg brushed against his, and he wasn't sure how long he could stand it. And now, finally, they had a few minutes on the balcony in which he could actually give in to his base desires and not have her reject him outright.

He pulled back only to suck in a breath of cold air and found himself gazing into her eyes. "…He believes now that we fell in love at first sight."

Elizabeth blinked lazily, and something that had gone long ignored inside Jason made him hope that it was because she wasn't altogether unaffected by his kisses. "And that we're happy?"

He nuzzled her cheek, his arms wrapping securely around her waist when she either went weak at the knees or leaned heavily into his embrace. Jason preferred to think she went weak at the knees, whether she really did or not. "And that we're happy."

God, she was perfect. Warm and soft and just a little sweet from the champagne they had just been having. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, teasing her by refusing entrance even when she granted it to him.

Her breath fluttered into a gasp, one that he felt acutely. "J-Jason?"

He knew what she was wondering: if this was necessary now. But Jason had already discovered that it _was _necessary for him to kiss her like this, to touch her like that, and to hold her so close. He'd already discovered that he'd go out of his skin if he couldn't.

"Mm?"

If she was about to say something, Elizabeth promptly forgot it the second his tongue slithered into her mouth and boldly stroked hers in such a suggestive way that she could swear she felt the sensation run all through her body. Not knowing quite what else to do, she raked her nails over his scalp, encouraged by the way he hissed.

It was unnerving being held in his arms, caught up in the embrace of feared mob enforcer, Jason Morgan. Aside from his very public alleged persona, he was 6'2" of pure muscle, with thick dark blonde hair and intense, brooding blue eyes, and he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Of course, heart-stoppingly wasn't really a word, but it sure as hell accurately described what happened to her whenever he touched her and kissed her. And it was just reassuring to know that she could affect him in a similar way and make him feel good and do something he liked. She hadn't really gotten that sort of positive reinforcement before.

He pulled back, breathing heavily now, and searched her eyes frantically, for what, Elizabeth had no idea. But she found that it didn't really matter when he swooped right back in for more and rendered her breathless once more.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what brought this on, but convinced herself in any event that it didn't matter. He was kissing her. Jason Morgan was kissing her with at least some sort of indication that he actually wanted her, and that was more than a girl like her had ever had before. It didn't matter that he couldn't stand her, that they fought all the time, that he barely even liked her beyond what she had done for little Michael, but he _wanted _her. 

Maybe. A little.

Hell, she'd take it.

She gripped his lapels and hauled him closer. Jason didn't need to be told twice and kissed her roughly, his fingers digging into her derriere to keep her pulled flush against him. And it was only when Elizabeth's mind was swimming due to a combination of his sensuous onslaught and a lack of oxygen that Jason pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

"Elizabeth, I…" He swore under his breath and pressed a hard kiss to just the corner of her mouth. It was only after she let out a little moan that Jason lifted his head and braved a glance at her. "D-Do you want to get out of here?"

She considered it. She could either stay here and pretend to be hot for her husband and planning all sorts of dirty things to do to him once the party was over…or she could go home with him and do those dirty things. It was hardly a contest.

"Yeah," she got out, nodding a little as if she feared he wouldn't believe her word alone. "Yeah, can we?"

Jason pressed his lips quickly to hers again, not in a kiss but in a very simple but nevertheless urgent coupling of their lips, and quickly pulled back with a nod like he didn't trust himself any farther. "Yeah. Go get your coat, I'll talk to Sonny and have him excuse us."


	5. The Missus And The Mistress

**4**

When the fuck had he become so damn popular?

Jason almost scowled directly at his older cousin Ned while shaking his hand, inwardly groaning when he spotted his grandfather coming over as well. Apparently more than just a few people had gotten an eyeful of him and his wife making out on the balcony like hormonal teenagers. Fuck. 

All he needed to do right now was find Sonny and tell him that he was leaving. Nothing less, and definitely nothing more. Just a terse, "We're leaving, make up something to cover," and that was it. Sonny could handle the explanation part and save face in front of the guests. Knowing him, he'd probably make a joke about how newlyweds are and turn the slight into something funny that everyone would smile about.

This time, he did scowl at his grandfather and amazingly enough, the old man got the hint and just stared at him in a huff as Jason pulled away from them and continued looking for Sonny. He wasn't in the main ballroom, which meant he was either in the kitchen, getting a quick snack because he never could eat dinner properly at these functions, or he was on the terrace out back taking a phone call.

Jason let out a breath of relief when he stepped out of the crowded and warm ballroom into the foyer of the Grey Stone. The house was still Sonny's but he and Brenda had been spending more and more time at Harborview Towers, so Grey Stone Manor generally hung in ownership limbo.

He could see out onto the terrace from the foyer and it was clear that Sonny wasn't there. Jason was just about to head down the corridor leading to the kitchen when he heard someone call his name.

"Jason?"

He spun around, resolved to tell whoever it was that he didn't have time right now, but the words died on his lips when he saw his ex-girlfriend Sam McCall peeking out from behind the heavy doors. The same girlfriend he had been forced to jilt – via phone call – right after he put his ring on Elizabeth's finger. He'd made the call from Sonny's penthouse rather than his own because he didn't want to figuratively slap Elizabeth in the face and upset her any more than she already had been that night.

Yeah, Sam didn't take too kindly to learning that her boyfriend not only wanted to break up with her but that he had also 'fallen madly in love' and gotten hitched to some woman he met a few days ago.

He hadn't wanted Sam to attend the party tonight but couldn't really bring himself to tell Sonny to cross her name off the invite list. Sonny had wanted to, he could tell, but Sam was a Cassidine and her family had always done business with them, so such a public snub would not have been practical.

"Sam."

She smiled softly and slipped out into the foyer, propping the door open behind her. "Hey, I was hoping I'd get a moment alone with you tonight."

Ah, shit. He should have known better than to think the evening would pass without event. Shaking his head, he actually took a step away from her. "I have to find-"

"It won't take long," she assured him gently, drawing ever closer. She was wearing black tonight, and Jason wondered if it was because he'd always told her that he loved her in that color. It made her look as gorgeous and dangerous as sin, and it used to drive him wild.

She came to a stop right in front of him and reached for one of his hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "I just wanted to tell you in person that I'm…I'm really happy for you, Jason."

It was the last thing he had expected to hear from her, and for a moment Jason could only stare. Sam appeared to understand his skepticism and even offered a self-deprecating little laugh.

"I know, I know, it must sound so weird hearing that from me, of all people." She licked her lips and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms and I was very angry with you, so angry that I wasn't even going to come tonight, but then my mom convinced me and…"

Sam's eyes met his again, almost helplessly. "I'm actually…kind of glad I did."

Jason's brows furrowed, and she noticed immediately. "I…I think it really helped. I was so mad at first about how we ended and I couldn't let go of that, and I knew that if I came I'd just end up getting drunk and going off on your wife-"

"Elizabeth," he corrected, almost without thinking.

Sam's lips thinned but she pushed on anyway. "Yeah. But seeing you two tonight, looking at all the trouble you went through for her to have the perfect party, listening to Sonny and Brenda go on and on about her and how happy she makes you and how well she fits in, and just, I don't know, seeing you two when you're together…I think it helped give me the closure I needed."

She laughed again, swiping at her brow in frustration. "I know, I know, that's so pathetic of me to say, but it's true. I mean it."

"Not pathetic," he heard himself murmuring as she turned liquid eyes up to his. "Thank you."

Sam nodded once. "I can see that you weren't lying to me when you told me that you fell in love with someone else, and, I don't know, it hurts to see you move on, but in a weird sort of way it also helps. Because if you can move on then so can I. And in a really, really weird way, it's almost better that…that you are so serious about this girl."

"Elizabeth."

The corners of her mouth tightened, but she managed a small smile that almost passed as warm. "Yeah. I mean, what I'm saying, I think, is that it would have been a real slap in the face if you told me you fell in love with someone else and it turned out to be a fling, you know? It would have made me feel cheap and used…"

"I never meant to hurt you," he cut in, giving her hand a small squeeze. "I really didn't, Sam."

"I know that now," she admitted. "Like I said, it would have made me feel cheap and used if you had just moved on to another woman and dumped her in a week, but seeing this, tonight…"

Sam trailed off and returned with a little shrug. "You really love her, Jason. You only need to spend a minute with you guys to figure that out. I mean, you _really _love this girl."

The roughness in his throat prevented him from offering up Elizabeth's name once more, so Jason just nodded and cleared his throat. "I do."

He didn't.

But apparently he'd gotten damn good at faking it.

"I'm really very happy for you," she murmured, sidling just a little closer. The hand that she had twined with his relinquished its hold and smoothed gently up his chest, over his suit jacket, around to the back of his neck. "I really am, from the bottom of my heart."

She tugged on his neck gently, lifting up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. At least, Jason thought she was going for his cheek, but at the last minute she kissed the side of his mouth, just the corner, and gently stroked his hair back from his face.

Before he could even wonder what the hell that was about, much less ask her, Sam drew away and skimmed her hand down his chest. "Thank you for inviting me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I had a lovely time."

And when she turned around to return to the main ballroom, both Sam and Jason found themselves looking at Elizabeth, who was staring back at them with a mixture of surprise, disbelief and hurt swirling in her eyes.

Sam smiled at the new Mrs. Morgan while Jason gaped at her and slowly sauntered forward, her shoulder just skimming Elizabeth's as she reentered the ballroom. "Congratulations."

------------------------------

"Naughty, naughty," she muttered to herself, quickly collecting her brown nipped waist coat and her leather gloves from one of the maids that had met her at the fringes of the ballroom. This really was terribly naughty for a girl like her – a boring, boring girl like her.

She was ditching her own birthday party to go home and finally – _finally _– have sex with that gorgeous husband of hers. It would hurt like hell tomorrow when he came to his senses and went back to barely noticing her and arguing with her on the rare occasions that he did, but god damn it, she'd make tonight worth it. She was already jumpy with a combination of nerves and excitement, barely able to keep still, and she had no idea what she was going to do to prove to a guy like Jason that she could give as good as she received, but tonight would be a night to remember regardless.

It would have to be, because she needed to count on it to get her through the rest of this sham marriage. She'd been lucky enough once to have Jason actually display signs of wanting her; she was prepared to accept the fact that it would likely not happen again.

She eyed the rest of the guests, trying to see if she could locate Sonny and Jason through the crowd. She didn't see either of them, which meant they were speaking now or had already spoken. In any event, it was an opportune moment for her to leave before Brenda spotted her and demanded to know what she was doing with her coat and gloves on her arm. 

Thankfully, the door to the foyer was already propped open and Elizabeth slipped toward it, moving quickly and inconspicuously. She had just reached the threshold with the full intention of hopping out and safely out of view when she saw her husband and stopped stock-still.

He was with his girlfriend, Sam McCall, the one she'd heard so much about: how she was independent and fearless and the Bonnie to his Clyde, how she saved Jason's life once by shooting an attacker, and how much Jason loved her. And how much Jason was rumored to have wanted to marry her.

The same woman he had broken things off with the night of their marriage, she presumed.

Although judging by the way Sam trailed her hand up his chest and kissed him, letting her lips linger near his, and how Jason leaned into her touch, Elizabeth was starting to doubt that the former was true.

Jason told her the night of their wedding that if she had any other boyfriends or attachments – she could still see the way he sneered that word – she had better break it all off immediately because those same boyfriends and attachments – this time, the other word was sneered – could jeopardize her safety. But he had never made any mention as to whether or not he planned to do the same.

Sam's hand trailed down her husband's chest, the massive opal she wore on the ring finger of her right hand glittering harshly under the light, and took a step back. She murmured something low and sultry – and most likely naughty and full of promise – and turned around, and Elizabeth's chest constricted at the false surprise she saw in the other woman's eyes upon being discovered.

Although, if she really examined it, it could be said that _Elizabeth _was the other woman in this situation, and not Sam.

Jason had seen her, too, and now stood gaping rather stupidly at her. Still too stunned to say a word, Elizabeth could only watch as Sam sauntered closer, her steps smooth and measured, until she was next to her.

"Congratulations," she purred sarcastically, arching a brow at her before shouldering her way past her and into the ballroom once more.

Elizabeth blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. Before she could, however, Sonny and Brenda displayed their impeccable – or unfortunate, depending on how one viewed it – sense of timing and materialized at her side. Whereas Brenda was confused, Sonny was decidedly not as he glared at his friend, evidence that he'd seen the whole encounter.

"Elizabeth?" Brenda's brows furrowed as she absently picked a large piece of lint off the pretty nipped waist coat she'd purchased for her new sister-in-law on her first shopping trip for the couple. "Are you leaving?"

Elizabeth swallowed, her eyes straying helplessly back to her husband's, mirroring his regret and humiliation. Her grip on her coat tightened for a brief second before she calmly relinquished it to Brenda, along with her gloves. "I am not."

"Good," the older woman replied, her smile touched with relief as well as lingering confusion. "I'll give these to the maid. Come on back inside, I want to introduce you to Kate Howard. She said she loved your sense of style and wanted to meet you. And she thinks her fiance Trevor knows your dad."

She felt herself being tugged away, and Elizabeth looked at Jason one last time before she turned completely on her heel and let Brenda pull her away to meet the famed fashionista. Brenda was always about networking and contacts.

Sonny waited until the women were out of sight and earshot before roughly grabbing his best friend's shoulder and spinning him around. "What the _hell _was that about?"

Jason just stared at him as the mobster seethed. "The door was fucking _open_, Jason. Anyone could have seen you and Sam. We finally have the Family heads believing that this marriage is legitimate – what would have happened if one of them was walking by? Did you think of any of that before you kissed Sam?"

They heard a light laugh and glanced into the ballroom where Kate Howard was warmly clasping Elizabeth's hand in two of her own, and the saccharine smile on his wife's face made Jason's chest constrict. Sonny stopped, as if remembering himself, and let out a sad little cluck.

"Did you think about Elizabeth at all before you kissed Sam?"


	6. The Way It Feels

**Note **– This takes place AFTER Elizabeth Morgan jumps out of a moving car to get away from her husband.

**5**

Almost two weeks had passed since Elizabeth had been basically kidnapped from her new apartment and hauled back to Port Charles, and she was going crazy.

She thought she had been in the clear when she hopped out of the moving car, rolled to the side of the road, and took off running. That was the last thing the mighty Jason Morgan expected his weak, demure little wife to do and it had taken him completely by surprise, she was sure. She had already been ducking through the alleys and put about three city blocks between them before Francis could stop the car, turn it around, and they could resume their search by foot.

In the end, it had been Spinelli's fault.

Damn kid. He was as sweet as all get-out, and the Lord knew he was as cute as a kitten and a puppy trying to climb into the same shoe, but he was definitely _not _her favorite person when he managed to pinpoint her exact location and allow Jason to burst into her apartment and nab her just minutes before she finished packing her meager belongings and made another getaway.

God damn, she had almost made it.

But when Jason, Max, Ritchie, _and _Francis kicked down the door of her apartment and quickly moved in to cover all exits – damn Jason, he especially pointed Ritchie toward the window leading to the fire escape – she knew she was out of options. So she stood by as Francis and Max picked up her bags and carried them out to the car below. Jason had tried to take her arm and lead her down but she'd have been damned if she let him touch her so in the end it was Ritchie that gently linked his fingers with hers and walked her out.

And when they got out to the car, Jason made her get in _first _and sit in the middle so that he and Ritchie could sit by the doors. There had been no chance at another escape. She hadn't said a word on the way back, even when Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out her sapphire and diamond wedding bands. Ritchie and Max had wisely averted their gazes when she ignored the offering, refusing to take the rings back.

Five hours later, they were back in Port Charles and she had arrived at bitter acceptance; this time when her husband handed her the wedding bands after helping her out of the car, she wordlessly slipped them on.

She had expected to return to Harborview Towers but instead found herself looking up at the handsome brick façade of Graystone Manor. Apparently her louse of a husband decided that security was too lax at the Towers, and that the constant changing of the guards would give her ample opportunities for escape, so he had bought the Graystone from Sonny for the ripe sum of $1 and given his penthouse to Spinelli, who had previously been staying with the Corinthos family.

"It'll be better for us here," he said, picking up her duffel bags and motioning for her to lead the way up the stairs. The bastard probably figured she'd try to bolt as soon as his back was turned, and Elizabeth had to admit that he wouldn't altogether be wrong. "The Graystone is larger, and you'll have more room for your things. There's a sun room, too, that you can use for your artwork."

She bristled as she climbed the stairs. He didn't have to say artwork like _that_. 

"It's quieter," Jason continued, not noticing her prickly mood. Or if he did, smart man that he was, he didn't indulge it or provide her with an opportunity to turn it on him. "And more peaceful, so it'll make sense to everyone else that we wanted to move here, away from Sonny and Brenda."

Ah, the oft-mentioned 'everyone else,' the reason for her sham marriage. 

"And," he added quietly, switching both bags to one hand so that he could place his free one at the small of her back and guide her into the master bedroom, "it'll be just ours."

--------------------------------

Elizabeth had never dealt with stress and anxiety well. If she was the least bit stressed, she started dealing with bouts of insomnia. The next thing to go after sleep was usually her appetite, and then the clarity of her complexion. And if it got _really _bad, that was when the nausea always began. Yup, she was a stress-vomiter, and it was a far-from-charming attribute.

So she wasn't at all surprised when, an hour after picking at her lunch, she regurgitated it into the porcelain toilet bowl. Two weeks of being cooped up in Graystone Manor had gotten her all in knots. Plus, she kept hearing hushed conversations between Sonny and Jason about how Manny Ruiz was gaining power steadily, exponentially, even, and would soon be out for revenge. Both men were thankful that Elizabeth's attempt to fly the coop had been resolved relatively quickly and been passed off as a passionate and rash lovers' quarrel with relative ease, because if there was any time that the support of the Five Families was needed, it was now.

The thing about the Ruiz family, and especially the wild card heir to the organization, Manny, was that they never forgot anything. They knew how to maintain grudges against their enemies, and unfortunately for all involved, Manny counted her as an enemy. All because she heard a small boy crying as he was carried through a dark alley behind her Sociology building at BU and dared to see what the trouble was.

Boston University.

How long ago it seemed that she was still a student there when in reality it had really only been a few months, just shy of three-quarters of a year. Nine months ago, she was still an Art History major studying pointillism and cubism and taking all-day trips to the Boston Museum of Art to study Van Gogh's paintings of poppies. It all seemed like a lifetime ago.

Whenever she got stressed out in college, she had a sure-fire way of dealing with it. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option in her current situation, but her life would have been infinitely better if it was. The best way to combat stress and release energy, she had discovered after a night of doing tequila shots with an adorable computer science major (those always had unsurpassable dexterity, her roommate had told her), was sex.

Plain and simple: sex.

And this same computer science major was the one that she usually sought out when the stress of finals and midterms and the thought of going home to visit the parental units over Christmas break threatened to do her in. They were surprisingly good friends – a night of safe but drunken sex and a wicked hangover the next morning had a way of inspiring quite a bond when both parties could laugh at the incident – and that friendship, of course, had its benefits. That was what kept her sane during her two years at Boston University.

Now, however, the situation was quite different. The last time she had sex had been…just before summer vacation when she was trying to cope with the reality of going home to the Webber Estate in Boulder, Colorado and spending the next two and a half months listening to her parents wail about her chosen major and listing the legions of artists in the world who, although famous, had become so only after their penniless death.

And then she'd returned to Boston University, successfully got everything together for her third year of study, and made it through barely more than two weeks of classes before she saved a little boy's life and found her own irrevocably changed.

She thought that she and Jason at least had a chance to break through the sterile barrier the night of her birthday party in this very house, but after she'd seen him kissing his ex, she didn't have the stomach for it. He had tried to explain that he wasn't expecting Sam to do that, and it was obvious that she had planned it so that Elizabeth would see, but by that time it was too late. Elizabeth had already resigned herself to the fact that her husband was still very much in demand with other women and might very well pursue those aforementioned women outside his marriage. And so long as that possibility remained, she couldn't stomach that of being intimate with him.

This really was a fine mess she'd gotten herself into.

And that was why the escape plan seemed so perfect. She had obtained annulment papers from Diane Miller, Sonny and Jason's attorney, on the sly. The attorney liked her, thankfully, and disapproved of the sham marriage and Jason's neanderthal ways, and was willing to help. So she signed the papers and left them on the pillow next to his, stopping only to watch him sleep for a moment while she pulled off the heavy wedding bands he'd given her.

And then she was free, until that little nerd Spinelli found her and facilitated her recapture.

Elizabeth groaned and let her head drop back on the couch cushions. It was late at night, but she had been having trouble sleeping for the past two weeks and knew she wouldn't be able to nod off any time soon. She couldn't make a trip into the kitchen, either, because the mere sight of the leftover manicotti was sure to trigger her nausea, and she was too dizzy from the lack of sleep and food to keep her eyes focused long enough to read even one sentence in one of the many travel books Jason kept around the house.

Her body twitched occasionally with futile energy, prompting her to toss and turn on the couch endlessly without finding a comfortable position. Since sex was out of the question, she probably could have done with a run, maybe around the park or over to Kelly's or even around the property. But it was late at night and even though the perimeter was patrolled, neither Jason nor the guards wanted her out of doors this late.

She really wasn't a wife, in all actuality. She was a prisoner.

But then, what else was new?

Elizabeth was just settling into a nice, long pity-party when her husband rapped gently on the door leading to the den and entered dressed in just his black sweatpants and a matching wife beater. She eyed him carefully, unabashedly staring at the way his muscles rippled under the fitted cotton, and her thoughts began to return to her favorite stress defense mechanism.

He sauntered over to the couch and, planting his hands on his hips, gave her a quick perusal. His wife was dressed in her pink pajama bottoms and matching tank top, sitting barefoot on the couch with the yellow afghan her Gram Audrey had knit for her thrown half over her lap. She didn't appear to be doing much, so this was probably as good an opportunity as any for what he wanted to do.

"Come here," he ordered gently, jutting his chin toward his chest.

Elizabeth arched a brow and straightened, wondering if he realized just how dirty that seemingly innocuous phrase sounded. "What? What are we doing?"

Jason eyes glittered and if she wasn't mistaken, she could have sworn that his eyes followed the movement of her tongue when she licked her lips. "I'm going to teach you how to shoot my gun."

Her brows jumped, and Elizabeth felt a smirk curl her lips at the thought that maybe – just maybe – her husband was thinking the same thing she was. _I'm going to teach you how to shoot my gun_? Come on, there was no way to misinterpret that.

--------------------------------

Except, of course, the one.

Jason clicked the safety off on his loaded black Glock, holding it up and in the light of the back door lanterns for her benefit. "You have to turn the safety off, otherwise it won't work. But you have to be very careful once it's off, because it could possibly misfire or go off when dropped, that sort of thing."

She nodded firmly, all of her former naughty thoughts gone as she tried to concentrate. This was very important; Jason never took the use of firearms lightly. She knew that he always hated her to see him with his gun and kept it strapped at his back, under the waistband of his pants, when he was with her and locked in his little American eagle box when they were at home. If he took her out to the back terrace facing the rear of their property for a shooting lesson, she knew that the situation definitely called for it and she'd better learn all that she could from him.

"I'm not asking you to start carrying," he told her gently, holding the weapon out for her to take. "Unless you want to – unless you feel safer."

"I don't think I would," Elizabeth admitted, testing the weight of it in her hand as he watched. "I'd always be afraid that I'd get spooked and shoot an innocent person. I don't think I trust myself with this kind of power."

Jason took her hands and gently placed them properly around the weapon, wrapping one firmly around the butt and having her place the other underneath. "Then you don't have to carry one. You have guards with you all the time, anyway. But just in case, I want you to know how to use one."

He didn't have to elaborate on the 'just in case' part. It really wasn't necessary. She heard the conversations between him and Sonny and even if she hadn't, she wasn't stupid. She did notice that while she used to have one guard, she had two after her birthday party and after her incarceration at Graystone, she had four for her rare run to Kelly's or to Wyndham's when Brenda succeeded in pestering Jason so persistently that he finally relented just to have some peace. 

Elizabeth frowned and smoothed her hand up the barrel, marveling at how smooth it felt under her fingertips. She swiped her thumb over the opening, running it along the circular rim, and tightened her grip on the butt. Jason sucked his teeth as he watched her get used to it. It was something he hoped he'd never have to show her, but obviously they hadn't been that lucky.

This marriage was supposed to be a relatively quick and painless endeavor – so far as any marriage was painless, he supposed. He was supposed to marry her, guarantee her protection, neutralize the Ruiz threat, and then annul the whole damn thing. Instead, he married her, only barely managed to guarantee her protection and fell in love with her in the process, chased her halfway across New York, caged her up in this house, and had to teach her how to defend herself, and all with no end in sight.

"I'm going to teach you how to shoot," he started, gently placing his hands on her hips so as not to surprise her. She let him pull her over to the edge of the terrace, looking out over their vast property, and spread her legs just a little as he asked. Her weight thus evenly balanced, Elizabeth did her best to concentrate as Jason once again corrected her grip on the gun. She tried to memorize exactly where her fingers were, exactly how it felt, so that she at least stood a chance of duplicating this little lesson if she absolutely had to.

He came up behind her, right at her back, so close that for a moment she forgot to breathe. "Arms like this," he coaxed, taking her hands in hers and lifting them up and out until she was actually aiming at the target that Max and Milo had set up before their shifts ended that night. "Just like that. You got it?"

Elizabeth nodded jerkily. It felt so strange to actually be pointing a gun at something, to actually have her finger on the trigger. "I-I think so."

"We can shoot at that target," Jason explained, jutting his chin out toward the rear of their property so that it accidentally brushed her ear in the process. "There's just a forest preserve behind it, and it's all private property over there, so we're not in danger of hitting anyone."

Elizabeth tried to nod again but without much luck. "O-Okay."

"And remember, never under any circumstances point your gun at something that you don't want to shoot." He shifted behind her, and she could feel him widen his stance just a little beyond hers. "I know it sounds simple, but you'd be amazed at the shooting accidents I've seen because someone didn't remember that. I want you to try to hit that target right in the middle, okay? Aim it this way – the gun pulls just a little to the right. We're going to shoot, okay?"

She licked her lips and felt her shoulders shrink just a little. "Why – Why don't you shoot? I'll just watch you and learn from that."

He chuckled gently, his breath making the delicate wisps of hair at her temple flutter. "That's no way to learn – you have to do this with me. Come on, it's the two of us. We'll do this together. Okay, so you've set your aim. You're holding the gun an arm's length away from your body, just like you should. You'll feel a jolt right after it fires – try to take it in the shoulder, okay?"

"Is it…" She searched for the semblance of the right word. "…Strong?"

"The force of the recoil varies with the size and make of the gun," he explained matter-of-factly, caressing her fingers with his own. "With this size, it's not that bad. And I'm right behind you, don't forget. It won't knock you over or anything, but you'll definitely feel it when you've got something this powerful in your hand."

"What kind of gun did you say this was, again?"

"It's a Glock. It's the same kind that all the guards carry."

"And Sonny?"

Jason grimaced. "He's a Smith & Wesson guy. Don't ask me why – I've never been able to figure it out."

She recognized his attempt to put her at ease when she heard one, and Elizabeth tried to laugh. "Okay, so we're shooting on…three?"

"On three," her husband agreed. "We'll take it slow, and we'll practice until you get good at it, okay? I want you to get used to the way it feels. Then next time, you won't be scared of it."

"Okay," she agreed. "One…two…"

It was so tempting to just lean back against Jason's chest and let him do the work, but she forced herself to tighten her finger in the trigger hold and concentrate on hitting the target.

"Three," Jason finished gently, bracing his hands around hers as Elizabeth pulled the trigger and fired the shot, closing her eyes and cringing away from it with a little whimper.

He'd never realized before – and really, this was pretty damn strange considering his profession – just how loud a gunshot was. But in the still of the night, standing on the back terrace of the quiet mansion, with Elizabeth curled up in his arms, it had sounded off like an earth-shaking explosion. And Jason was amazed to find that his heart was thumping loudly in his chest in the aftermath of it all.

"You did fine, you did fine," he whispered, trying to catch his breath. He smoothed both his hands up Elizabeth's arms to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze there, before smoothing them back down again until they were clasping hers. "You okay?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. That was…I didn't expect it to feel like that."

"Let's do it again," Jason murmured, turning his cheek to her hair. "You up for it?"

Elizabeth paused a moment, then nodded again. "I think so. On three?"

"One…two…"

"Three," she finished, keeping just one eye open as she fired the gun again, jerking back from the force of the recoil. "Ooh…"

The recoil had been stronger somehow this time and pushed her back into his chest. And when Elizabeth lost her footing for just a moment and fell into him, she felt an unusual stiffness just above the curve of her bottom that caused her to pause.

"J-Jason?"

"Again," he ordered, sounding just a little hoarse. "Let's do it again. No count this time – just pull."

She did as he said and fired the weapon once more, keeping her eyes open and actually on the target this time as her shoulders jerked back and into his chest. "Again?"

His hands slipped from hers and skimmed down her sides, setting off a path of goosebumps and heat as he settled them firmly on her hips. "Again."

His grip on her hips tightened as soon as the shot was fired, and this time when her body leaned against his, Elizabeth was sure that she wasn't mistaken in what she felt. She let out a little groan when he leaned closer, his lips almost touching the curve where her neck joined her shoulders, and inhaled her scent.

"Please don't tell me that _this _turns you on."

She felt his chest rumble with laughter and Jason lightly nipped at her shoulder. "Do it again."

Elizabeth bit her lip, trying to concentrate on the target as his thumbs slipped under her camisole and danced along her skin. She squared her shoulders, determined not to lose her balance this time from the recoil, squinted at her mark, and fired.

She took it solidly in the shoulder just like he'd told her to, but found herself leaning back into his chest anyway, just a little out of breath from the practice. His hands smoothed around to her stomach, his palms settling there firmly, and Elizabeth twisted just slightly so that she could look up at him.

"Again?"

Jason's gaze focused on her lips with that husky little word and his arms tightened slightly around her. "Do you want to?" He watched her pause and consider it. "You used to the way it feels?"

She nodded slowly, her gaze affixed to his as her lips twitched. "I think so. I-I think that's enough practice for one night."

Jason let out a slow breath as he placed his hand on her throat, using his thumb to tip her chin up so that her lips were closer to his. His eyes darted between hers, searching them, making absolutely sure that he wouldn't scare her away if he did what he'd been dying to do for the past few months. 

One hand still on her stomach, his gun still in her firm grip, Jason lowered his face until their noses brushed and crushed his lips to hers. She'd been waiting for him, and her free hand clasped the one he still had splayed across her stomach. Elizabeth kissed him back, not at all intimidated by the hunger in his embrace, and turned in his arms until they were face to face, and the hint of his arousal began to press low against her belly.

Jason broke off the kiss, surprising her until he plucked the gun from her hand and quickly flicked the safety on, then set it down on the ledge. "Just in case."

"Just in case," she agreed, the words barely escaping before his lips met hers again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him push her back into the stone ledge. She had always known that Jason Morgan would be an aggressive lover, and there was a part of her that absolutely delighted in the thrill of the conquest.

He slipped a leg between hers, bringing their bodies together from thigh to chest as he continued to ravage her mouth. Elizabeth let out a little purr when she realized that what had been a slight stiffness earlier was now insistently pressed up in the cradle of her thighs. Jason's response was to steal his hands around behind her, roughly cupping her derriere and scooping her up onto the ledge.

Elizabeth took his cue when his rough hands ran over the supple muscles of her thighs, squeezing her and stroking her, and wrapped her legs around his waist. Jason hefted her easily, turning around with her in his arms as he blindly felt his way back through the doors and into the private den.

He didn't bother turning off the lights. Somehow, he never struck her as a man that would insist on total darkness, anyway. And even though the experience was new to her, she who had always counted on the dimness of light to mask her body's flaws, Elizabeth didn't murmur a word of protest or suggestion.

Jason kissed her savagely, even stopping to nip at her lower lip until Elizabeth was certain she tasted the slightest trace of blood. He soothed the wound with his tongue and then slipped it through the seam of her lips, engaging hers in a duel.

She took advantage of the moment and sucked in a deep breath when his lips finally wandered from hers and over across her jawline to her ear. He flicked at the lobe, then suckled it, and then bit it, each tactic eliciting little squeals of pleasure and frustration alike. She curled into his embrace, her eyes closed and her face hidden in the cavern of his neck, just holding him close for a moment.

Jason's movements slowed gradually and he turned his face into her cheek, nuzzling her gently as she fisted her hands in his wifebeater. His hands moved slowly over her back, her hips, her bottom, as he held her securely in his arms and nudged her so that she turned her face to his. He pressed his lips to hers, but not quite as hard as last time, and kissed her slowly. The lingering touch made her mewl, and Elizabeth gently ran her hands over his chest and down his sides, memorizing the feel of the strong muscles rippling under her palms.

And then, just as Jason started to lightly pepper her cheek with small kisses, she gripped the edge of his wifebeater and yanked on it roughly, forcing him to lift his arms so that she could whisk it over his head. The change in tempo made his eyes flash, and Jason pulled her to him so abruptly that she practically bounced off of him upon impact.

Wrapping one arm firmly around her waist so that their hips were pressed firmly together, Jason braced his other hand on the back of the couch and, never removing his lips from hers, slowly lowered her to the floor.


	7. The Network

**6**

_"Jason, she is your wife and you love her deeply. Myself and the other Family heads will do everything we can to help bring her home safe and sound. You have my promise."_

She had been missing for two weeks.

Jason had full control of all of Sonny's resources, as well as those of the other Family heads, and worked around the clock to get his wife back. Don Sandoval and the others had called in all the favors they could, each of them trying to get at least _some _information as to where Manny Ruiz had taken Mrs. Morgan. They had nothing to go on – nothing except Manny's brief letters, delivered through several middlemen, always full of taunts and half-clues. Spinelli and the other technology gurus employed by the Family heads did their best to decode the messages for any hidden information that could be used to find the Fair Elizabeth, but were having little luck so far. 

He didn't understand how this could have happened. He'd watched the security footage Spinelli had put together over and over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. This was precisely why he'd moved them to the Graystone. Well, the main reason was so that he could have some uninterrupted time alone with his wife without the well-meaning Corinthos family, Spinelli, and a veritable army of bodyguards walking in and out of the living room at all hours of the day and night. But the Graystone was secluded and heavily guarded with cameras all around the perimeter. There wasn't a square inch that was unsupervised, but somehow, Manny Ruiz's men had broken in anyway and kidnapped his wife.

It was unbelievable. One night, he had been showing her how to shoot his gun and when she'd gotten proficient enough at that, it became a different kind of lesson. After their first bout of lovemaking behind the sofa in the private den, he'd taken her upstairs and they'd spent the rest of the night as a tangle of limbs, stealing a few hours' worth of sleep only when they were both too exhausted to do anything else. And the next night, he went out to attend an informal meeting with Sonny and Tagliati, and she was gone.

Spinelli, bless him, hadn't slept a wink in days. He was glued to his computer, constantly networking with the other tech gurus employed by the Families so that he had up to the minute updates on the situation. Sonny spent most of his time on the phone or with Spinelli, anxiously pacing behind the boy as he pulled up security tapes from any locations that appeared on his list as places of interest. Michael was crushed and had lapsed into some psychological trauma state, no doubt remembering the incident of his own kidnapping, and was in no shape to return to school and so spent most of the day huddled up on the couch in his pajamas next to Spinelli. Brenda, who was beside herself with her own ineffectiveness, brewed coffee for the men and tried to at least make sure that they ate something.

Nothing was working. Don Sandoval had made two trips to Port Charles from his Connecticut territories so far; both Faith and Roscoe flew out to Chicago to take advantage of their family contacts there since the Ruiz family also had contacts in the Midwest, and Don Tagliati had left his borough and was currently staying in one of the furnished suites at Harborview. He was the only Family head that had one time associated with the Ruiz family, and since he figured that Manny would eventually contact Sonny and Jason in person, he wanted to be personally on hand.

They had used up their store of favors with the Family heads, but Jason couldn't worry about that at a time like this. All that mattered was bringing Elizabeth home before that psychopath snapped her neck like a twig for looking at him cross-eyed. Manny Ruiz was a loose canon, a madman, and every day that passed with Elizabeth in his clutches left less and less hope for them.

He just couldn't lose her now, not when he was so close to having a real relationship with her, to building a real life with her beyond their previously sham-marriage. If he got her back, he'd tell her everything. It didn't matter if he was rejected, if she didn't return his feelings, if she wouldn't. He just had to get it all out there, let her know all of it, and they'd go from there.

They'd just have to go from there.

---------------------------

Spinelli had come through, as he always did.

Jason slammed a new cartridge into his weapon and nodded at Max, who made quick motions to the rest of the guards. They were moving through an old abandoned warehouse that Don Tagliati had once used but that had been boarded up for years. Apparently, Manny Ruiz thought it was an excellent place to stash the young Mrs. Morgan until he could move her again. 

Jason had wanted to handle this personally, no matter how hard Sonny, Brenda, Spinelli, and even Michael had tried to dissuade him. This wasn't business – this was entirely personal. Manny Ruiz abducted Elizabeth because she ruined his plans to use Michael as a pawn in his power play. He didn't need to use her as a pawn this time; he had all the wealth and resources he could need, especially after his last few extremely profitable months. This was just a game of cat-and-mouse, and it was all about taunting Jason with the fact that he couldn't keep his family safe.

And that was why Jason had suited up and driven to the outskirts of Brooklyn with Max, Ritchie, Tagliati's enforcer, and two of Don Sandoval's top men. He had a constant line to Spinelli, who had outfitted him with a special headset, and Spinelli in turn had a constant line to the Roscoes, who were particularly influential in that part of New York and would be instrumental in running damage control and cleaning up if things went bad.

Jason hadn't let Sonny get one word in about how to handle this situation before he left, because he already knew one thing for certain: either Manny Ruiz would be going home in an unmarked body bag, or he would.


	8. Til Death Do Us Part

**7**

Jason didn't even feel the bite of the stinging rain as he half-carried Elizabeth out of the burning warehouse. Max and Ritchie were just ahead of him, both of them breathing heavily, and had made sure that they escaped safely. After the bomb went off, the warehouse had gone up like a tinderbox, and it all came crashing down around them. Max and Ritchie cleared the way, using Jason's headset to get to Spinelli, who had pulled up the schematics and was guiding them safely out. Tagliati's enforcer and Don Sandoval's men followed them out in various degrees of disarray, coughing and wheezing from the thick smoke. They were the only ones to emerge from the destroyed warehouse.

"Follow us," Tagliati's enforcer murmured to Jason. He slicked his black hair out of his forehead and nodded at Don Sandoval's top guards. "We'll return to Harborview, and then we'll refuel and head back with Sammy and Carmine."

Jason nodded, his vision blurry from a combination of smoke and rain. Max and Ritchie exchanged a few quiet words with the other men and then they separated into two groups. Ritchie flanked Elizabeth while Max went around to the driver's side door, and he held the shivering young woman's arm and helped her into the back seat. Once the Morgans were safely in, he shut the door and hopped into the passenger side just as Tagliati's enforcer took the rear exit and drove away from the burning warehouse before any emergency vehicles could arrive at the screen.

Ritchie kept his eyes trained forward, but Max occasionally stole glances at the rearview mirror as he followed Tagliati's enforcer onto the ramp that led to the turnpike. Elizabeth was soaked to the bone and shivering, and wet tendrils clung to her cheeks and her neck. Jason was thoroughly wet, too, but appeared not to notice it.

He had left his heavy black overcoat in the back of the car before they entered the warehouse, and now retrieved it and shifted Elizabeth just enough so that he could wrap it around her. She shivered and burrowed into it, nearly disappearing behind the collar, and snuggled wordlessly into Jason's side.

He was holding her half in his lap, her legs curled up and nestled between his, and his strong arm wrapped securely around her narrow, shaking shoulders. Elizabeth was pale and drawn, and her eyes appeared sunken in her head. Two weeks of capture at the hands of that psychopath had obviously taken its toll on her, and the worst part was that they had no idea what he had done to her.

Personally, Max suspected that Mrs. Morgan was in shock. That was why he was particularly glad that Jason had opted to bring Ritchie along on this assignment. He knew Jason didn't like Ritchie that much, most likely because Elizabeth learned early on that she could let her guard down around him, but the younger man truly had the oddest talent for putting Elizabeth at ease. And she was certainly in need of any support she could get right now. Between her husband and her friend, Max hoped she'd be able to pull herself out of it long enough to at least let them help her.

He wanted to go to the hospital first instead of Harborview Towers, but Jason had a point. Seeing Brenda and Michael would be good for Elizabeth, and it would be best if their private doctor inspected her. If they took her to General Hospital, all pertinent information regarding her current state would soon be common knowledge despite supposed doctor-patient confidentiality. Especially if Amy Vining was anywhere in the vicinity.

They had another four hours to go before they reached Port Charles, and every so often Max would look at the rearview, hoping to pick up on any sign of movement or hear any whispered, muffled word between the two.

But Jason remained as he was, holding her close in what had to be a crushing grip by now, and Elizabeth hadn't moved a muscle. Her head was tucked under her husband's chin, her face turned into his neck, and the rest of her was concealed under that heavy coat.

And just when Max thought the oppressive silence was going to drive him crazy, he heard it: the smallest sound, a choked sob, and he glanced back just in time to see Elizabeth's face contort as she crumpled into her husband's desperate embrace. Jason swore under his breath and held her even tighter, closing his eyes and turning his face into her hair.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured over and over, wincing when her nails bit into his arm. "So sorry."

Elizabeth didn't say a word in reply, and all the while as Max guided them home, Jason did his best to keep himself from wondering if it was because she couldn't or because she wouldn't.

--------------------------

She had killed Manny Ruiz.

He had a gun pointed straight at Jason's chest and was taunting him, telling him that he had a wonderful time _getting to know his wife_, if he knew what he meant. And as her husband stared down the sociopath as well as his own mortality, Elizabeth had forgotten everything else. Her dazed eyes drifted around the large compound, and everything was moving in slow motion until she saw the gun on the floor by the crate, just two steps away. And then time surged ahead so that before she knew what she was doing, Elizabeth had picked up the weapon, braced it like Jason taught her, and fired a bullet straight into the chest of the man that held his own gun trained on her husband.

It didn't matter that her bullet was one of four that was fired, and that they had no way of knowing which one it was precisely that pierced his lung and perforated his heart.

None of that mattered, because she had picked up a gun and fired a shot at a living, breathing human being.

Just a year ago she was practicing brushstrokes and reading a biography on Renoir. She was having lunch on the grass in the quad with her computer science major and going to a kegger over at Phi Kappa Miu and staying up all night to sew the Von Trapp children's play clothes for the Theatre group's rendition of _The Sound of Music_. 

And today, she had picked up a gun and shot a man.

A crash outside – maybe from downstairs, since the vent connected with the bathroom vent – broke her out of her silent reverie and prompted her to finally shut off the scalding hot spray of water. She stood still in the stall for a long moment, her heart still pounding in her chest, and finally reached out blindly for the fluffy pink towel Jason had left for her.

She wrapped it around herself and sat down on the edge of the tub, gripping the sides tightly for purchase because she honestly thought she'd slip off and crack her head open on the tiles if she didn't. Everything felt fuzzy, everything felt warm and liquid and far away, as if she were swaddled in some sort of cocoon that held everything else at bay.

If only.

Elizabeth lowered her head into her hands, her heart pounding in her throat now. The steam from the shower blurred her vision, made her eyes feel crackly and dry, and the coolness of the tiles was beginning to bleed into her bones. Somewhere along the way, her life had gone horribly, horribly wrong. She went from doing a watercolor of the quad at BU one day to shooting someone the next, and she still couldn't fully wrap her head around that.

Manny Ruiz was dead. True, he had wanted her dead, and that was just another example of how her life had taken an absolute turn for the worst. Twenty-two year old Art History majors did not make mortal enemies and cause mob wars. And they certainly didn't shoot people. It didn't matter that Jason, Ritchie, and one of Don Sandoval's men also shot Manny Ruiz; all that mattered to her was that the bullet from her gun was lodged in Manny's chest along with theirs, and she'd have to carry that for the rest of her life.

She knew exactly what she had to do but her body found it hard to comply. So Elizabeth Webber sat teetering and shivering on the edge of the porcelain tub for another half hour, desperately trying to work up the will to make everything right again.

---------------------------------

He was pacing in the living room of his penthouse and stubbed his toe on the end table, knocking over the ridiculous glass vase that Brenda had given him as an ironic homecoming gift when he came back the first time. It had fallen to the ground and shattered, and now he had little shards of prickly glass all over his hardwood floors.

Spinelli was on his feet as Jason gaped stupidly at the mess he'd made. "Don't worry about it, Stone Cold, I got it."

He pulled a broom out of a side closet and eyed his longtime mentor warily. "In fact…why don't you sit down? Take it easy? I'm sure the Fair One will be down…soon."

Empty words, hollow sounds. Jason scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the hutch of the sofa. Spinelli just wanted him to sit down so he wouldn't knock anything else over. In the past hour, he'd not only stubbed his toe and broken the vase, but he'd stubbed his other toe on the couch, bumped into the coffee table and dropped some magazines on the floor, and stumbled into the fancy display case that held the equally fancy china Sonny and Brenda had given the Morgans as a "wedding" present.

Yeah, it was probably better if he sat down, safely out of the way.

He watched idly as Spinelli swept up the glass and dropped it in the wastebasket, barely seeing the boy. His mind was on Elizabeth who had been upstairs showering for an awfully long time. He had carried her upstairs, turned on the water for her, and then went and retrieved towels and an extra toothbrush and hairbrush for her while she got in. Then he puttered around the master bedroom and laid out a pair of jeans and a soft maroon and gold BU t-shirt he knew she loved.

And then finally, with nothing else to do, he returned downstairs where Spinelli was ordering the Fair One's favorite foods from Kelly's and proceeded to walk into every single piece of furniture down there.

Everyone else had gone home. Don Sandoval's men dropped Tagliati's enforcer off and then drove back to their home territory, and Tagliati stuck around long enough to check in with Sonny and make sure everything was settled before he and his enforcer drove back as well with the promise to check in again soon.

Now it was just him and Elizabeth.

And Spinelli.

And Sonny and Brenda and Michael.

…And a whole army of bodyguards that kept stopping by Harborview Towers for no goddamn reason, and then puttering around performing meaningless errands for much the same reason.

"Don't you have stuff to do?"

Spinelli looked over his shoulder as he tossed the broom back into the closet. "What?"

"Don't you have something else to do?" Jason repeated impatiently. "Some work for Sonny, or…I don't know."

The boy shook his head and kicked the closet shut. "Not really, Stone Cold. Mister Corinthos Sir is expecting me to sit in on a conference call with him in three hours, and he told me to rest until then. He also told me to get some food. I hope you don't mind, but the Jackal ordered a little extra food from Kelly's for himself and for you, along with the Fair One's favorites. The order should be here soon."

Jason was just about to order him to get his ass out of the penthouse and raid Sonny's kitchen instead when he heard footsteps upstairs. They continued for a moment longer, and both he and Spinelli stopped and listened hard. Elizabeth could be heard crossing the master bedroom, and then they heard a door open. Both men waited as still as statues as the steps continued down the hallway, and then they heard her coming down the stairs.

Spinelli looked up at Jason in panic, then began to wring his hands. "Uh, maybe I'll, uh, get the Fair One a glass of water. Yes, that sounds like a plan."

But before either man could do anything, Elizabeth appeared on the landing above. She gazed down at them, her expression soft but lost, and stood there a long moment before finally descending the rest of the way. She was wearing the maroon BU t-shirt Jason had set out for her but had passed over the blue jeans in favor of a pair of black and blue plaid pajama bottoms that most obviously didn't belong to her. They were loose and baggy, and she'd folded them up at the cuffs. They were Jason's, but she still chose to wore them.

"Fair One," Spinelli eked out with a nervous chuckle. "You are looking well. Can the Jackal get you something? A motion for a glass of water was on the table and currently undergoing discussion."

She shook her head wordlessly and fiddled with the edge of her t-shirt. Spinelli licked his lips and glanced up at Jason, who had yet to remove his gaze from his wife. "Uh, very well. But the Jackal has taken the liberty of ordering some of your favorite consumables from Kelly's and they should be arriving soon."

There was a quick knock at the door and before Jason could say anything, Ritchie and Max poked their heads in.

"Oh, good, you're down," Ritchie smiled gently, letting himself and his friend into the penthouse. "We were starting to get worried. Listen, Milo should be back any second with some grub, and Johnny's driving Dr. Scorpio over."

Elizabeth's brows pulled together slightly at the unfamiliar name. "Doctor Scorpio?"

Her voice was rusty and cracked slightly, making Ritchie wince. Appearing not even to think of it, Jason raised his hand and gently cupped her elbow, drawing her just a little closer to his side.

"I thought your doctor was Patrick Drake."

Max shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Er, yeah, he is, but he usually takes care of Sonny or Jason or one of us guys whenever we get sh- er, hurt or something. Doctor Scorpio's different."

Elizabeth wasn't following. "How?"

Ritchie slipped his hands into his pocket, his gaze straying away from hers. "Uh, she's a girl."

"Robin Scorpio," Spinelli clarified quickly. "She, uh, is the one we call if the Goddess is ever hurt or needs private medical attention. Like for her girl parts. She's really nice – the Prudent Practitioner and the Goddess have become friends over the years. I think you'll like her."

"We just thought a woman doctor was best," Jason added quietly, his hand slipping gently to her waist. "…Just in case."

A small frown still touched her lips, giving her an almost lost and distant look as Elizabeth puzzled over his words. And then something clicked, and her troubled eyes snapped up to meet his. "I wasn't raped."

It was as if she'd struck a blow with those words. Ritchie and Jason both rocked back on their heels slightly, and Spinelli studiously averted his gaze and twined and untwined his fingers, looking understandably uncomfortable.

"Manny didn't touch me," Elizabeth added evenly and without flinching. "Not like that – not once."

The men all watched her carefully as she swallowed roughly and began to wrap her arms around her middle. "I mean, he threatened to. All the time. Over and over. But he never actually did anything," she got out, feeling Jason's arm tighten around her waist.

"I still want Robin to check you out," her husband told her gently, waiting for her hesitant nod before continuing. "Just in case you broke something or need any medication or anything like that. Monica said she's in surgery right now but she'll make it over here as soon as she's done."

Her brows rose at that but Elizabeth didn't say anything. Jason had actually called up his mother to find Robin. It probably shouldn't have surprised her. He was, after all, deep down inside a good man. Even if he had trouble showing it. 

"Hey, everyone," Milo greeted them quietly as he slipped into the penthouse with Johnny right behind him. He felt the need to practically whisper, but the other men kind of understood. It was as if they were all afraid of doing anything too fast or saying anything too loud and scaring Elizabeth, shattering the control she was working so hard to maintain. "Spinelli, you wanna help me with this stuff?"

Spinelli was already reaching for a brown paper bag. "Sure thing. Look, Fair One, sandwiches. The Jackal ordered your usual turkey with all the fixings, but then I thought you might want something hot, so I got the chili, too. Extra hot sauce."

"It's right here," Milo piped in, handing a bag over to his brother. "Got a bunch of those crackers you like, too. Oh, and we also have pasta, if that's what you're in the mood for. Spaghetti over here, fresh macaroni and cheese, some lasagna…where should I put this?"

"Put it on the table," Jason ordered, gently pulling Elizabeth out of the way as he gestured to the little coffee table. "Are you hungry? Spinelli, get the plates – and get something for her to drink."

This was the first time he actually wished he had a dining table. As Spinelli ran off into the kitchen to secure the silverware, Jason led Elizabeth to the couch. She sat down hesitantly, watching him warily as he yanked her yellow afghan off the hutch. The last time she saw it, it had been on the floor at the Greystone behind the couch. He'd obviously gone around and collected some of her things to bring them here.

"Are – Are we staying at the penthouse from now on?" she asked as the men made quick work of taking out the different containers. She had no idea what they were thinking: there was a ridiculous amount of food in front of her and she didn't even think she'd be able to hold two bites without vomiting it right back up.

"Yes," Jason replied, gently laying the afghan across her lap and adjusting the pillows behind her. "It was a mistake to go to the Greystone."

That was the first time she'd ever heard him admit to actually making a mistake.

"We'll stay here at Harborview," her husband was saying as he took the plate that Spinelli practically shoved under her nose. "We've heightened security and posted double guards in the lobby and updated our security cameras, everything. We have a newer, tighter schedule in place for the guards-"

"I put it together," Spinelli announced proudly.

"-And we've only got the ones we trust completely up here," Jason added. "Max, Milo, Ritchie, Johnny, Francis, and Marco will be on rotation outside. If you ever want to go anywhere, you'll have two of them with you instead of one. This is _not _going to happen again, Elizabeth, I promise."

"We promise, too," Ritchie finally said, before the moment could become awkward. "There's no way anyone connected to that son of a bitch will ever get you again."

Jason nodded earnestly and swallowed past the lump in his throat. This was the absolute worst time to do so, but he couldn't stop thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened to her. And it would have been all his fault that an innocent, beautiful, trusting woman like Elizabeth had suffered. She'd never asked a damn thing from him unlike all the other women he'd been with in the past. She just silently willed him to keep her safe. That was the purpose of this whole thing, and he'd managed to fuck that up, too.

But tonight, everything would change.

He had been an absolute louse to her, he knew that. He could have done things differently, done things better, and been a good husband. It was all just so new to him at the time, back when he found himself standing in Sonny and Brenda's living room across from Elizabeth with Father Coates reading Scripture between them. 

He loved his single life. Well, he loved it as much as any man in his position could. His life was orderly and simple, no unnecessary complications. He had his best friends Sonny and Brenda, his nephew Michael, and his trusted sidekick Spinelli, and they were all he needed. He could come and go as he want and not answer to anyone. He could stay out all night and sleep all day if he felt like it. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, as he wanted.

His life was complete. There were never any loose ends, never any gray area. He knew what was his and he knew what wasn't; he knew what was within his rights and what wasn't. As harsh as it sounded, he never had to consider anyone else's opinion, anyone else's feelings, anyone else's doubts or misgivings or fear. Sonny trusted him to do his job, Spinelli helped him do his job, and Brenda always fed him when he was done with his job. And that was all Jason could have asked for.

Marrying Elizabeth had disrupted all of that. It wasn't just him anymore: he had a wife to consider. A very young wife who was very ill-equipped to deal with his world. She was afraid of his meetings, terrified of his assignments, leery of his associates, nervous around his guards, and jittery around his family at times. And she hadn't planned on marrying, either.

And that fact haunted Jason as well. He could never escape the thought that if he hadn't met her, Elizabeth Webber would still be an Art History major at BU, sitting on the grass in Boston Commons sketching the swan boats. She'd be going to her ridiculous concerts with her friends, she'd be consuming coffee through in intravenous drip (if they let her) at her favorite little coffee shop at the Crossing as she crammed for exams, and so on. She'd be living the life of any normal woman her age, and he was the single reason she couldn't do any of that.

He'd taken it out on her: his own insecurities, his own shortcomings, his own guilt. It wasn't right but it was the only thing he knew how to do when he suddenly found himself responsible for her in every way that a man could be responsible for a woman. He brought her into his life, and he'd made it painfully clear that he didn't want her to be any part of it. No wonder she jumped out of a moving car to get away from him; hell, he probably would have done the same.

But it was all going to be different from now on.

"Listen, try to take it easy," he said gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Try to relax. Have something to eat – you've got to be hungry."

Spinelli was trying to stealthily sneak a wrapped sandwich from the table without drawing too much attention to himself. Once he had it, he curled up on the armchair in the corner, tore open a corner of the wax wrapping, and began to nibble on the roast beef sandwich that Georgie had fixed just for him, just the way he liked it.

Jason eyed him knowingly, then hopped off the couch as Elizabeth gaped dumbly up at him. "This is what's going to happen. Spinelli, you've got that call with Sonny, right?"

"Not for…another two and a half hours," the boy replied, quickly checking his watch.

"Okay. Max, you and Ritchie are on duty right now, right?"

The two men nodded. "Yeah, we're up in about fifteen minutes. We can go now, if you like."

But Jason shook his head. "I want you to call down to the warehouse and get Stan. Tell him to get over here. Spinelli, you and Stan are going to run through the surveillance set up one more time. Johnny, call and see what the hell is taking Robin so long."

"Jason, I'm fine, really, just a little tired," Elizabeth tried to cut in.

"Still," he interrupted firmly. "Milo, run across the hall and see where Brenda is."

"I, uh, think she wanted to give you and Eliz- Mrs. Morgan some time alone," Milo hedged, trying to get the hint across. "I don't think she or Mister Corinthos have told Michael yet that you're both back, because he'll want to come right over and they want to wait til you've both had time to…rest."

Spinelli nodded to himself, pleased with Milo's efforts. It was a delicate way to say that they all thought Jason should administer the TLC that the Fair One needed. His mentor was thinking in a million different directions at once, but the fact remained that what would probably do Elizabeth the most good was just to sit and be with her husband.

Jason apparently accepted the guard's reply and turned back to his wife. "If you want, I can have someone call Robin and tell her to wait until you're ready to see her. It's up to you."

She hadn't expected to be put on the spot and Elizabeth could only shrug and manage a few cracking syllables. "I, uh, no, it's fine…"

"If you want to see Brenda and Michael, I can call them over," Jason told her, gently lacing his fingers with hers. "They'll be so happy to see you. It's up to you, whenever you want."

"I-I'd like to wait a little," Elizabeth got out, her hand limp in his. "I, uh-"

"That's fine," he assured her, "we'll call them over whenever you're ready to see them. Michael's kind of…excitable and he'll probably jump all over you, so I'll have to talk to him, and-"

He was rambling, and it was the first time Elizabeth had seen him do so.

"Sonny's got a lot of business to handle right now, but he said that he wanted to come see you as soon as you were feeling up to it, but I told him to wait. Damn it, Milo, did you call Stan yet or what?"

"You told John to do that."

"Stone Cold, is it really necessary to go through the set up again-"

"Yes," he cut in, glaring at Spinelli over his shoulder. "Just do it, okay?"

Elizabeth swallowed roughly when he turned back to her. "We've got a surveillance system set up that's even better than the one before. We installed three new cameras, even one right outside the balcony for an aerial panoramic view, and there's no way anyone can get in without our knowing about it."

"We've added men to our surveillance team, too," Max added in helpfully. "They'll make the call immediately if an intruder is spotted, and it'll be taken care of just like that."

Jason appeared to barely hear him. "And I figured that you'd want to stay in for a while and take some time to yourself, so I put Marco in charge of whatever you need. If you want anything – books, movies, magazines, food, clothes, whatever – you ask him. You and Brenda both. She'll be here when I'm not and you can have her and Michael over here anytime you want, day or night, for as long as you want. And if something comes up and you need me, I'm just a phone call away."

She was sure she'd _never _heard him talk that fast. "Jason, there is something I-"

"And the rest of the guys are always here," he added, gesturing to the guards who had now grown silent but nodded dutifully. "Two of them out in the hall, around the clock, like I said. And any of your other friends that you want to see, just call them over whenever you want. They'll be frisked and searched, but…we can't avoid that."

Elizabeth set the plate on the couch and swept the afghan off her lap, hesitantly climbing to her feet. "Jason-"

A knock at the door, and then Marco poked his head in. "Boss? Robin just left General Hospital. Francis is driving her over. They should be here in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," Jason replied. "Elizabeth, what were you-"

"There is something I need to talk to you about," she cut in, wringing her hands together. "I think – maybe if – do you guys think you could leave us-"

"Boss?" It was Trey at the door now. "Uh, Mister Corinthos wanted to know if there was any way that the family could see you guys now because, uh-"

"In a second, Trey," he replied, trying to shift his attention back to Elizabeth. "You were saying-"

"I was just saying that there's something I really need to talk to you about," she got out. "I've given this a lot of thought, so it's not just something that-"

"-because Michael just overheard Seth and me talking and he knows Mrs. Morgan is home and…yeah, he won't quit screaming about it and he really wants to see her."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look-"

Max frowned at an incoming text message. "Looks like Robin forgot something in all the rush – Francis has to take her back to the hospital. It'll be another twenty, twenty-five minutes."

"Tell him-"

"Seriously, boss, the kid's going nuts. He's, like, hysterical. He keeps saying he wants to see her for himself to know that she's okay."

"Jason, I really think – could you guys please give us a few minutes?"

"Stone Cold, Stan emailed and said he's in the middle of fixing a bug and wants to know if we can do it in a little while, but that means I'll be really tight on my call with Mister Corinthos Sir."

"Jason, please-"

"Stop!" Jason slowly opened his eyes and glared around the room at his guards. "Okay. Max, tell Francis that's fine, not to worry about it. Spinelli, tell Stan not to bother and do a run-through yourself. Trey, tell Michael that he can come see Elizabeth for a few minutes but no more than that because she's tired. He can spend the day with her tomorrow. Anything else?"

He looked around the room, but all the responses had been silenced. And when Jason turned once more to his wife, he found her standing next to him with her hands covering her face. "E-Elizabeth?"

She didn't move her hands from her face and appeared to barely be hanging on to any semblance of control. "Could you please ask everyone else to leave?"

He blinked. "…But what if you need something?"

Very slowly, Elizabeth straightened and looked up at him, her face ashen and her hands curling into tight fists. Her bottomless eyes met his directly, without flinching, but when she spoke her voice was soft and defeated.

"I want a divorce."


	9. My Own

**8**

"I want a divorce."

No four words had ever stunned him as much as those. Not "Jason, Brenda is pregnant," or "Brenda had the baby," or "You have been shot," or "You almost died today," or even "Love you, Uncle Jason."

Elizabeth wanted a divorce.

He had no idea how long he stood there, staring at her as she stared at him and the guards all tried their hardest not to stare at either of them. All he knew was that he was rooted to the floor and that he couldn't have moved if he tried. It was as if everything in him had suddenly frozen, gone hard and cold and dark to the point where he couldn't even think beyond that. All he could do was stare back into her liquid eyes, feeling his own harden into flashing steel. And then, finally, just when he thought he was holding himself so taut that everything would snap into pieces, he found his voice.

"No."

She flinched at his reply, tight and hard and angry, growled in that fierce way only he could manage. If possible, she grew even paler. "But-"

_"No._" He had no idea how he did it, but it sounded even worse the second time he repeated it.

She had no idea what she was doing, standing there in front of him in her bare feet and his pajama bottoms with that damn BU t-shirt, telling him she wanted this. Just minutes ago, he'd been thinking of how he was going to make this up to her, how he was going to prove to her that he could keep her safe, how he was going to change everything that was wrong in their marriage and show her that he could be a good husband, the kind of husband she could grow to love.

And then she said – that!

"Jason, you haven't even heard what I have to say," Elizabeth ground out, her voice trembling and thick from unshed tears.

He scowled and whirled around, stalking around the edge of the sofa just because he had a feeling that if he stayed close to her, he'd end up throttling the damn woman. "I've heard enough."

Wisely, Milo and Ritchie chose to jump out of his way as if they were on the tracks facing down a runaway train. Spinelli chose to remain on the armchair where he was, apparently thinking that if he curled up even tighter into a ball, he would escape notice entirely.

"You always do this," she accused, jabbing a finger at him and turning so that she was facing him. "You never _listen _to what I want."

"I've been too busy trying to keep you safe!" he exploded. It had been a long time coming, this argument, and even though the outburst was supposed to make him feel calmer and purged, it only fueled his anger. "That's the only reason we're in this mess!"

"You don't have to remind me why we're _in this mess_," Elizabeth hissed, battling tears that threatened to spill over at any second. "Especially since you've done nothing else since we got married!"

"So this is my fault?"

"No, it's mine!" she shouted back, losing the fight against her tears. They spilled down, hot and fast, over her flaming cheeks. "It's my fault that I heard a little boy crying and tracked the sound down. If I minded my own business I never would have met you, and I would have been _happy_. But I can't even regret any of it because Manny probably would have killed Michael otherwise-"

"Leave," Jason barked, addressing his men. "Get out, now."

"Don't," Elizabeth countered, casting a long look at Ritchie. "Don't go. Not until I've said what I wanted to say."

"I'm not divorcing you," he informed her severely, his eyes practically shooting off sparks as he glared at her. "So you can stop saying it. Stop saying it!"

"But why _not_?"

If he had been in close range, he damn well _would _have throttled her. "Because it's not safe! What the hell else were we just talking about?"

"Manny is dead," Elizabeth shot back. Her petite frame trembled violently from the force of her emotions, but there was no stopping her now. "Manny Ruiz is dead. I shot him."

"_I_ shot him," Jason corrected acerbically.

"I shot him, you shot him, Ritchie shot him, that guy with the scar on his face shot him," she went on, throwing her hands in the air. "Does it matter? All four of us shot him. He's dead – four times over. We got married because he tried to kill Michael and then promised to kill me. He's _dead _now, Jason. The one thing that forced us to stay together is gone now – there is no reason that we can't divorce."

If any of the men noticed that the Morgans were using the word 'divorce' now instead of the formerly popular 'annulment,' they were far too smart to bring any attention to it.

Jason's attention, however, was not to be removed from his employees. "You guys fucking deaf or something? Get out – now."

"Please stay," Elizabeth announced loudly, though her voice wobbled just a bit as she said it. "Please don't go."

And that was when Jason abandoned the last semblance of restraint that he'd been clutching at all this while. Staring at her, seeing how her eyes pleaded with Ritchie and the others not to go, as if he might do something to her if they did, was what did it.

"Fine," he agreed, his voice so cold that a shiver actually ran down Elizabeth's spine. "You want them to stay? They'll stay. They'll hear everything you have to say."

She licked her lips and tried again. "I'm just saying that there is no logical reason for us to stay married. Manny is dead. Sonny and the other Family heads are already dividing up his territory – I'm assuming that was what the call's about that Sonny's having Spinelli sit in on."

The boy in question continued to stare at his half-eaten sandwich, fervently wishing this conflict away.

"Once that's done, none of Manny's associates would dare to pick up where he left off," she added. "And that includes me. I'm not in any danger anymore. There's no reason we have to stay in this marriage."

His eyes flashed and a muscle in Jason's jaw ticked rapidly. "I am _not _divorcing you."

"Why not?" Elizabeth practically wailed, resisting the urge to sob. "Why the hell not?"

That was it. He stalked over to her, so close that they were almost touching, so close that Ritchie made a noise of distress and actually attempted – stupid man – to take a step closer and mediate before Max pulled him back, so close that Elizabeth went deathly still and stared helplessly up at him.

"Because you might be pregnant with my child," Jason ground out, ignoring the way all the guards and Spinelli balked at the newest development. Elizabeth's eyes widened, lips parted in surprise. "And then you'd have a whole other world of danger to deal with."

She gulped and actually shivered when he gazed down at her, and finally averted her gaze. Satisfied, Jason took a step back and worked his jaw, trying to regain his bearings. "We don't know if you are or aren't. And when I get that answer, I'll consider giving you yours."

And Elizabeth had no choice but to numbly watch as her husband whirled around, stalked past the guards that wisely shrank away at his approach and into the hall, and slammed the door shut behind him. And then, not particularly caring that she had an audience and unable to stop herself regardless, she sank down on the couch and dropped her head in her hands, wondering just what the hell she was supposed to do as the tears she'd fought against before rushed forth unyieldingly now.

« _Last Edit:_ Mar 2, 2008, 6:50pm by Huma the Guma »


	10. Let Go

**9**

"Is there a chance you could be pregnant?"

Brenda stroked Elizabeth's messy hair away from her face as the young woman sobbed into the cushion she'd thrown on her almost-sister-in-law's lap. 

"Well? Was he right? Is there a chance?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth choked out, following up the few words she managed to actually say with a loud sniffle. "I-I guess. I think so."

Brenda's hand stilled in her hair. "Oh, honey…"

"I know," she wailed, her voice mostly muffled by the pillow. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I – How – I mean, I didn't think you guys were even…"

"We weren't." Elizabeth sniffled again and wiped her nose with her hand. "We weren't, not at all. And then…"

"Well, obviously something changed," Brenda helped her along. "When did you guys – you know, the first time. Or maybe the last time is more important…"

"First and last time," she clarified. "It was – it was at the Greystone. He was teaching me to use his gun and one thing led to another and…"

She smoothed her fingers through Elizabeth's chocolate curls, untangling the slightly damp locks. "And?"

"And it was spontaneous and we didn't use anything. Not once."

"…It was more than once?"

Her shoulders shook with a sob, and Elizabeth nodded. "Uh-huh."

"And you guys didn't use-"

"No."

She pursed her lips together. "Ah."

"But I was really stressed at the time," Elizabeth struggled on, coughing now. "And I don't deal with stress well, and then I was kidnapped the next night, and I've been on the brink of losing it for two weeks, so…conditions inside me probably aren't conducive to…you know."

Brenda nodded comfortingly and continued stroking her hair. "So you're probably not."

"I hope I'm not," she whimpered in reply, curling into an even tighter ball on the couch. She hadn't planned on rushing over to Brenda's, but after Jason left there didn't seem to be any other alternative. She couldn't stay in Penthouse II with all the well-meaning guards and Spinelli, none of whom knew quite what to say after learning that she _might _be pregnant with their boss's first child. Needless to say, there had been a lot of polite coughing.

And she sure as hell wasn't going to sit there and wait for Jason to come home. So she darted across the hall and banged on the door to Penthouse IV, then promptly dissolved in tears on the couch…again. Thankfully, Michael had already been put to bed and Sonny was out – presumably wherever Jason was, and presumably taking that conference call of his elsewhere because as it was, they were the only two currently home.

"I really hope I'm not."

Brenda let out a slow, cleansing breath and gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Look, whatever is meant to happen will happen. Did Robin draw any blood from you?"

She shook her head miserably. "I haven't even seen her yet. I ran out before she came up. I think she must have gone back to the hospital."

"We'll go see her whenever you're ready," the older woman assured her. "Just you and me, if you want. We'll go see Kelly Lee at the hospital and she'll be able to let you know for sure, okay? Whenever you're ready, that's when we'll go. Jason doesn't have to know the day or the time if you don't want – this can be just between us. Whatever makes you more comfortable."

Elizabeth sniffled. "Okay."

A long pause and, "Bren?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"How do you do it?"

Her voice had taken on the shaky quality once again of a woman dangerously on the edge of tears. Even more tears. Funny, because she would have thought that Elizabeth's body had dried out by now. "How do I do what?"

Elizabeth's shoulders quaked again, and Brenda was fairly sure she heard the damp pillow actually squish. "How do you stay in this…this…"

"The business?" She mulled the question over as she continued to softly pet her sister-in-law's hair. "Well, granted, it's not conventional. And it's certainly not safe. Especially with a little boy in the mix."

Elizabeth remained quiet; no one needed to be reminded that the little boy in question was the reason for this whole situation, anyway.

"But I know that me and Michael are surrounded by men that would give their lives to keep us safe," she smiled sadly, twisting a lock of dark brown hair around and around her index and middle finger. "That helps. You have that, too, you know."

The younger woman remained quiet aside from a choked sob that got the best of her.

"And it's easier when you love your husband," Brenda added softly. "And when you trust him to keep you safe and happy."

And that was what they both knew Elizabeth didn't have.

"I can't do it anymore," she hiccupped, swiping at her nose and burrowing into the cushion. "Brenda, I can't. I just can't do it."

"Shh, honey, shh, it'll be okay," Brenda tried.

But Elizabeth was beyond hopeless assurances. "No, it won't, it'll never be okay – until – until I'm away from him. I can't do it, Brenda, not anymore. I'm not like you. I'm not – I'm not-"

She bit down on her lip even as her own eyes welled with tears. "Elizabeth, please, don't say that. You're so much stronger than you think. You don't give yourself nearly enough credit – my baby wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for you."

"I can't stay with him," she whispered. "I can't do it. I have to get away. I just feel like I'm falling off a cliff, every day I spend with him. I'm falling and it's dark and empty but I can't reach the bottom. There's never any end to it. I can't keep doing this. I'd rather die."

"Just hang in there," Brenda soothed, wrapping her arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "It'll be okay. Just hang in there a little while longer. Forget Jason – we can take care of him. You've got me and Sonny and Michael, honey. We all care about you so much. I'll make sure you're okay, I promise."

She just shook her head. "I won't be okay. You don't understand, Bren, I can't do this. I'm not – even supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be in Boston, I'm supposed to be in school – I was never supposed to meet him!"

Neither woman heard the tiptoeing steps on the stairs leading down from the upper level.

"Elizabeth-"

"I can't do this, I can't be around him. I can't, I can't!"

And for the first time in her life, Brenda couldn't think of a single thing to say to make the situation better. There were no reassurances to offer, no sweet platitudes, absolutely nothing to say. Elizabeth was beside herself, practically hysterical, and it was just a bad situation all around.

She couldn't say that it was Jason's fault, and she couldn't say that it was Elizabeth's fault. They were just two very different people thrown together under cruel circumstances. Whether they had tried or not seemed almost irrelevant at this point. They were from two entirely different worlds and they had no idea how to exist together. Jason wasn't the sort of man Elizabeth needed and she wasn't the sort of woman he was used to. It was just a bad situation all around.

With Elizabeth dissolved into tears in her lap, Brenda could do little but sweep her damp hair out of her face and soothingly rub the woman's shoulders, willing her to stop crying. It didn't do any good and she finally cried herself to what might have passed as sleep but was probably an exhausted lapse of consciousness. After all, Elizabeth hadn't been sleeping much at all even before the kidnapping. Brenda let out a slow breath and leaned back on the couch, trying to figure out the best way to handle this mess.

It was then that she heard the landing creak and when she turned around, she spotted her son perched on the stairs. Seeing her seeing him, Michael got up and trotted down the few remaining steps and walked hesitantly over.

"Momma?"

"Baby, what are you doing up?" Brenda asked quietly, gently patting a place on the couch for him to sit. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

"I heard the door slam," Michael replied, climbing up onto the sofa. "I waited but didn't hear nothing, so I came down here to see. What's wrong with Lizabeth?"

If Brenda hadn't been furiously trying to figure out just how much Michael overheard, and just what she could get away with lying to him about, she might have heard the front door creak open as Jason finally came searching for his wife.

"She's not feeling so good, honey," she tried to explain, sweeping the boy's silky dark hair out of his eyes. "That's all. She's just a little tired."

"But she was crying," Michael pouted, hesitantly reaching out to brush a lock of Elizabeth's hair aside. "Why was she crying?"

"Well, you know how sometimes when you get sick, you get a little crabby? Yeah?" She coaxed a smile out of her little boy by tickling under his chin. "It's just like that with Elizabeth, too. Sometimes when we get sick we just get a little sad, and sometimes we cry, and then we get some rest and we feel as good as new. Yeah?"

He nodded slowly. "So's she gonna be okay?"

"She'll be okay," Brenda replied after a pause. "Yeah, she'll be okay. And tell you what? You know how she'll be even more okay?"

"How?"

"If you let her know that you love her and that she's important to you," she smiled. "Everyone needs to hear that sometimes."

"Doesn't Uncle Jason tell her that?"

"Sometimes we need to hear it from other people, too," Brenda hedged. "Like, isn't it so much better that both Daddy and I say we love you instead of just me saying it?"

It was just the sort of logic to work in a child's mind, and Michael nodded, appeased. "Can I sit with her?"

"Sure you can, baby," his mother replied, gently taking hold of Elizabeth's pillow so that she could slip out from under the weight of her head. Once she was standing, she settled the young woman back on the couch and lifted her son so that he was closer. "There. You sit with her, and I'll be right back, okay? And then you're gonna have to go back to bed, Mister. No arguments."

Michael slowly swept his aunt's hair off the rest of the pillow and gathered it all at the nape of her neck with surprising care. "Kay, Momma."

She watched her son settle in next to his beloved aunt and, on the way to being convinced that they'd both be okay, Brenda turned and headed for the door. She'd only taken two steps when she saw Jason standing there, staring emptily at Michael and Elizabeth at the couch, and Brenda kept her movements natural and her voice soft so as not to awake her infuriatingly perceptive son's suspicions.

"Hey, I was wondering where you'd gone," she said easily, pulling the door open and taking her old friend's arm. "I wanted to talk to you. Come in a minute?"

Wordlessly, he let her lead him into the room and toward the kitchen. Michael looked up as his uncle entered and offered him a fleeting smile before he turned his attention back to Elizabeth. Jason closed his eyes and let out a slow, controlled breath as Brenda turned him around and finally let go of his arm once they were in the kitchen and safely out of earshot.

"Where were you?"

The stern set of his jaw made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to be interrogated. After all, it had been a long night for all of them. A long two weeks, to be more precise. "At the warehouse with Sonny."

The answer didn't matter, and it certainly didn't fix anything, so Brenda didn't take it up. "We should talk."

A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked and he met her gaze directly. "So talk."

A long, tense pause stretched between the two old friends, and Brenda crossed her arms over her chest when she realized that he wasn't going to speak first and that there wasn't any easy way to say this.

"Just give her the divorce, Jason."

He turned away from her and faced the large windows looking out over the rest of Port Charles. "This isn't any of your business, Brenda."

"It's my business because it involves two people I care very much about," she disagreed. "Two people that are hurting each other in the worst way possible and don't know how to stop."

His eyes when they met hers had narrowed into slits. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know that Elizabeth ran to my penthouse and broke down in tears not even four hours after being returned home safely. I know that the night she was supposed to spend with you, hearing how glad you are to have her back safe and sound, she's spending on my couch."

She pursed her lips into a thin, red line and stared at his profile. "Please, Jason, just give her this. Neither of you can go on like this."

"We're fine."

"Does she look fine to you?" Brenda burst out, remembering a little late that there was a child in the next room. "She's a wreck, Jason."

He swallowed roughly. "She'll be alright."

"She won't be okay on her own," she persisted. "Jason, you didn't hear her tonight."

"I said she'll be fine," he snapped, turning on his heel and attempting to pass her by on his way out of the kitchen.

"Saying so doesn't make it true," Brenda hissed. "Look, she needs…something. Something that I can't give her, and something that you probably won't. Or can't," she added at his dark look. "Whatever. But you didn't see her tonight, Jason. She's an absolute wreck. And what's this about you wanting to know if she's pregnant?"

His nostrils flared. "What, a man doesn't have a right to know if his wife's having a baby?"

If she wasn't such a lady and a mother, she would have slugged him. Ah, the hell with it. Brenda snarled and punched his arm as hard as she could, taking no small measure of satisfaction when he actually stumbled a step and raised a hand to ward her off.

"You stupid ape," she glowered, covering her eyes with her hand as she tried to think. "Oh, you can't do anything right, can you?"

Jason scowled and rubbed his arm. Normally, she wouldn't have done any damage but she'd hit him with her left hand – the one boasting the giant rock Sonny had given her on their engagement night. That fucker hurt.

"I have every right to know," he insisted, trying to escape the feeling of sheepish stupidity that came creeping up.

Brenda pursed her lips together, but her eyes remained closed. "You do. But it was your manner of asking that really pushed her over the edge. What, you're putting them on either side of the balance scale? If she's not pregnant, you divorce her and if she is, you don't?"

She had him there. Even Jason had to admit that he hadn't been thinking clearly when he said that. All he'd been thinking was that Elizabeth didn't know what _she _was thinking, and that he was ready to do or say anything to just get her to stop saying the word 'divorce' over and over, especially when all he wanted to do was pick her up, take her upstairs, and spend the rest of the night showing her just how much he missed her and how much he needed her with him.

But instead of admitting all of that, he replied with a cavalier shrug. "Yeah."

Her dark eyes threw off veritable sparks as she glowered at him. "Nice, Jason. Even for you."

It should have stung more, to learn how low he'd sunk in his close friend's esteem, but after all the turmoil of that night, it just didn't hit its mark. "You done talking or what?"

She shook her head sadly and folded her arms over her chest. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"How far you've pushed her," Brenda replied sadly. "Do you remember how she looked right before she ran off for New York and you had to go track her down? Do you?"

Jason winced. That had not been one of his proudest moments, having a woman jump out of a moving car and risk injury and possibly death just because she couldn't stand his company for a minute longer.

"She wasn't eating, she was pale, she had big black bags under her eyes, she wasn't sleeping." Brenda ticked the observations off on her fingers. "Look at her now. She's right in the living room – go look at her. She's lost so much weight, Jason. She looks like she hasn't slept in weeks. She's scared and jittery and she can't stop crying and she's so exhausted that she's actually having trouble falling asleep."

He worked his jaw and avoided her heated gaze. "A lot of that was because of Manny."

"And you don't think that a little of that was because of you?" Brenda sighed. "Jason, look at what this is doing to your wife. This is killing her."

"She's strong," he heard himself reply in a voice that sounded strangely unlike his own. "She's survived worse. She'll be okay."

"See, that's the thing." Brenda licked her lips and looked up at him, and Jason was taken aback at the clarity of her gaze. "I don't think she will be."

He stared at her a good, long moment. "What are you saying?"

"After tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if she left you in the middle of the night and checked herself into Shadybrook. Or worse."

His mouth soured at the mention of the sanitarium. "She – she wouldn't."

Brenda shrugged in an irritatingly resigned manner. "I wouldn't be surprised if she did. She hinted at it a couple times. It was like she was begging every single Higher Power out there not to be carrying your child so that she can actually have a glimmer of hope of getting away from us. She feels like she's got nothing left to lose, Jason. Like she's trapped."

She stopped herself from adding, _and you did that to her_. Unlike so many other people in town, she wasn't the sort to kick Jason when he was down. 

Brenda had no doubt that Jason thought he was in love with Elizabeth. Whether he truly was or wasn't was not for her to say or pry into. The fact of the matter remained that this was all new to him and he didn't know what to do. He was failing miserably and didn't seem willing to accept even the slightest bit of help from anyone. He wasn't open with his emotions, so she wagered it would be a good, long while before Elizabeth figured out that there was more to her choleric husband than met the eye.

But she'd gotten to know Elizabeth Webber – Morgan, it was still Morgan - very well during her tenure as sister-in-law, and what she knew didn't make the union seem promising. Jason was next in a long line of people that had failed to show their love for Elizabeth Webber, the first and foremost being the bitch and bastard that created her. Elizabeth had opened up about her parents and her hellish childhood about a month into her marriage since, after all, she spent most of her time with Brenda and Michael anyway. She wasn't the sort of woman that had been cherished, and Brenda had to admit that her old friend didn't seem the cherishing type. So even if Jason needed Elizabeth to wait and see the extent of his feelings for her until he was able to correctly show her, the simple fact of the matter was that Elizabeth couldn't wait. She just didn't have it in her anymore, which was profoundly sad given how young she was.

"And I'm worried about her," Brenda admitted. "I hate seeing her this way. She scared the sh – crap out of Michael tonight, I could see it, but I tried to play it down. So did he. My little boy looked back at me and pretended to believe me when I said she was crying because she was tired. None of us have ever seen her this bad before."

Jason swallowed roughly and looked past her into the living room where Michael's dark hair could be seen over the back of the couch. From a distance, he could be heard mumbling something to his aunt, perhaps a story that he heard in school. Elizabeth always tried so hard to keep her emotions from him when she could; it made perfect sense that she let them all out to Brenda, and even to some extent Michael.

She reached out and settled a hand gently on his arm, but with enough force to earn his attention. "Give her the divorce, Jason," Brenda pleaded softly. "Let her walk away and get better."

His refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but it wouldn't budge past that.

"Jase, it's not working." He could see the sadness in her eyes, remorse for the fact that she had to be the one to say this to him, and that just made it all worse. "Don't you think you owe it to her and to yourself to end this before you hurt each other any worse?"


	11. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

**10**

Elizabeth was still asleep on the couch with Michael when Jason stumbled out of Penthouse IV. She was there when Sonny and Spinelli returned, and she didn't come back to his place after that. Instead, Brenda asked Sonny to carry her up to one of their guest bedrooms and that was where she spent the night. As for Jason, he spent the night in his master bedroom, alone with a bottle of whiskey while Spinelli nervously paced up and down the hallway right outside.

Jason slept in the next morning as a direct and singular result of the alcohol he had consumed. Elizabeth slept in, too, and when Robin came over and examined her, she realized it was a direct result of exhaustion and mild dehydration. She immediately prescribed a sleep aide, instructed Sonny and Brenda to monitor Elizabeth's fluid intake, and returned to the hospital.

And that was why Elizabeth spent the next three days in Penthouse II, safely across the hall from her husband. Michael was thrilled to have his aunt in the next room and made a habit of running up right before school so that he could wake her up and tell her about what they were going to do today in Miss Clarke's kindergarten class. And when he returned, she was the first person after his mother that he ran to see. So it was that the three days she spent dozing in the guest bedroom at her brother and sister-in-law's penthouse weren't entirely miserable and dreary.

Jason, on the other hand, didn't have the reprieve of sleep and his nephew. Sonny had insisted that he take the week off and made sure to distribute all of his work among the higher-level guards, all of whom actively worked to make sure there wasn't a single damn thing for Jason to do as far as the business was concerned. This inactivity, unfortunately, afforded Jason plenty of time to think of what Elizabeth and Brenda had said.

And when he couldn't stand it any longer, he finally returned to his wet bar and pulled out an unopened bottle of scotch almost as old as Spinelli and Elizabeth were, and that was how he spent the rest of his day.

Scotch was tricky; it sometimes made him sick to his stomach with just one drink. But Jason held his own against it this time. Sitting alone against the headboard in his dark master bedroom, he sloshed the liquid into his glass and gulped it down. At the rate he was going, it wasn't long at all before his thoughts swirled into images, feelings, memories, and he was powerless against the onslaught.

--------------------------------

_Flashback…_

Finished with his ring bearer duties now that his uncle and new aunt had completed their wedding vows, Michael stole away from his mother's side as she poured Elizabeth a glass of champagne and tugged on Jason's pants.

"Uncle Jason?"

He looked down in surprise and stooped to the little boy's level. "What's up, buddy?"

Michael brushed his dark hair out of his eyes – it was always a touch too long – and regarded him curiously. "Are you and Lizabeth gonna go on a honeymoon now, or what?"

Jason stared at him for a moment, trying to formulate the best possible response, and finally settled for a half-truth. "Not right away, bud. Your dad and I have a lot of stuff to take care of right now, so we'll be busy. Besides," he added, dropping a kiss on Michael's crown, "there's no way I'm letting you out of my sight."

The boy giggled when his uncle tickled his tummy and seemed to accept the answer. "Okay, but when you do go, I know the perfect spot."

"Yeah?" How Michael could possibly know Elizabeth's desired honeymoon location – the one she'd probably visit with her second husband – was beyond him. "What?"

"Italy," he replied without hesitation. "Her Gram Audrey and Grampa Steve in Colorado went to Italy and had a great old time. Lizabeth's gonna study abroad there because she likes art and Italy has all these cool museums, but I think she'd be so happy if you took her there first."

For a moment, Jason didn't quite know what to say. He was rarely speechless around other adults, but his nephew had the most peculiar way of catching him entirely by surprise. "How'd you know all that?"

"She told me," Michael shrugged, barely looking up when his mother took Elizabeth across the hall for a little tour of her new home. "When we were in Manny's hideout."

Jason didn't particularly want to dwell on that – much less let Michael dwell on it any more than he already had – and adroitly changed the subject, hoping as he did so that it wasn't too obvious. "Well, you sure learned a lot. You're a good listener."

"Mom says I learned that from you. And I know tons about Lizabeth. She likes to talk."

That gave Jason reason to pause. It was funny, because Elizabeth had barely said ten words since he'd met her, and two of those were "I do." 

"Yeah?"

He nodded eagerly. "Oh, yeah. She has funny stories. Like, about her parents and stuff. I think she likes them even less than you like the Quartermaines."

The little imp grinned as he said that, and Jason had to smile back. "Okay, now I know you're making things up."

"Nuh-uh!" Michael protested, only momentarily offended. "I'm not making anything up. She told me all of it. Her parents live in Colorado and they have this _biiiiiig _house, even bigger than the Greystone, and Lizabeth lived there her whole life. She even had a pony, but it died. She has a brother named Steven who's a doctor somewhere, and a snooty sister named Sarah."

"A snooty sister, huh?" Jason repeated. "Guess we're lucky that your mom's her new sister now, huh?"

Michael laughed at that. "Ask Lizabeth in a week."

God, the kid amazed him. Twenty-four hours ago, he had been at the center of a showdown between his father's men and Manny Ruiz, and now he was cracking jokes at his mother's expense, a favorite past-time among the men in Sonny's employ.

Unable to speak for a moment, Jason tugged the boy a little closer and finally scooped him up in his arms and stood. Michael was a little short for his age, built more like his father than his lanky mother, and still fit neatly in his arms.

"What else did you find out about Elizabeth, bud?"

"She ran away from home when she graduated high school," Michael began. "And she moved to Boston because it was as far as she could get while still staying in the US. She speaks to her parents on Christmas and her birthday, sometimes, and she likes it better that way. Told you she didn't like them."

"I believe you," Jason assured him. "What else?"

"She has friends that are in a band, and she used to listen to them practice all the time. She made their picture for them, too, and painted it on their drums. She loves to draw and paint and – oh, she said she'd make me a picture for my room! Isn't that cool?"

"Very cool," he agreed, patting the boy on the back. "Very cool, buddy."

"And she drinks hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, and she loves pineapple and jalapeno pizza with ranch dressing, and if she could have any kind of pet she'd have a talking parrot and teach it bad things to say."

Jason stifled a laugh. "Really?"

"Well, I was the one that said she should teach it bad things to say," Michael confessed, "but she said she liked that idea. She said she'd teach it bad things to say and then invite her parents over, and that would be funny. Are you gonna get her a parrot like that?"

"We'll see," he hedged. "We'll talk about it."

That answer satisfied the boy. Either that, or he was already thinking of something else. It was very hard to tell with children. "She can whistle real good. She tried to teach me how, but I couldn't do it."

"Whistling takes practice."

"We had lots of time," Michael shrugged, resting his head on Jason's shoulder. He tried to stifle a yawn and continued. "She made up games for us to play. One game was Guess the Cartoon Character. I always won, but only because she picked easy ones."

His eyes softened and Jason rested his chin on Michael's head. He, Brenda, and Sonny had a lot to be grateful for. It was probably due to Elizabeth's calming presence and distraction techniques that Michael came out of this relatively unscathed.

"She was real nice, too," the little boy yawned. "She held me in her lap when I went to sleep, and she sang me a song and she gave me her food if I was hungry. And she always pushed me behind her whenever one of Manny's guys came to check on us."

He scratched his nose on his uncle's t-shirt and let out a slow sigh as his eyes began to close. "I knew since I met her that you'd love her."

----------------------------------------

_Flashback…_

He was in his office finishing up his perusal of a file that Spinelli had compiled, and Jason was fairly sure that he'd heard a knock on the door downstairs a minute ago. He slipped all the loose pages back into the folder, tied it shut, and dropped it securely in his desk drawer. No sense in Elizabeth wandering into his office for some reason (even though she had no business there) and finding out who he planned to kill next. That was the part of his life he was careful now to keep behind closed doors.

He left the room and trotted down the stairs, hearing his best friend's voice in the main room.

"Hey, Elizabeth, is Jason around?"

He was on the landing now and could hear her soft voice clearly. Usually, Elizabeth tried to get by with saying as few words as possible to him and the other men. "I think he's at the warehouse."

Jason snorted. Fine thing, his own wife couldn't even tell if he was home or not. But he didn't have time to dwell on that because he heard footsteps and when he looked down into the lower level, he saw the two of them heading toward the kitchen.

"Well, okay, I'll give him a call and see if I can get a hold of him," Sonny was saying.

"I hope it wasn't something really important."

"Nah. It's fine. Besides, this gives me a chance to talk to you."

"Me?" he could hear his wife squeak.

"Sure," Sonny replied in that practiced tone that was meant to put his audience at ease. Jason had to envy how his best friend could do that. "How've you been? Everything all right? We haven't seen much of you this past week."

"Yeah, I've been…kind of settling in," she hedged. Jason trotted down the remaining steps just as they disappeared into the kitchen. "Things have been a little crazy."

"Michael's been wondering about you. He wanted to come over yesterday – and today – but Brenda and I distracted him. He'd spend every day here with you if he could."

To his surprise, Jason could hear Elizabeth let out a little laugh. "Well, he's more than welcome to. I'd enjoy the company, that's for sure."

He couldn't tell if that was a slight toward him or not. It probably was.

"Next time he asks, feel free to send him over. I'm never doing much, anyway."

"Yeah? What do you normally do?"

"Well, in the mornings when the light is good I sketch," he could hear her say. "Sometimes I just sketch the view from the balcony, sometimes I do people. I've got one of Michael done that I think Brenda has her eye on. I'm just waiting to find a good frame before I give it to her. Sometimes I sketch clothes."

"Clothes?"

"Yeah. My Gram taught me how to sew when I was in high school and I occasionally sketch out a dress or a skirt or something and put it together. It's something to do. Occasionally I knit. The winters in Boston are horrible, so I made myself a hat, scarf, and mittens during my first fall semester."

"Brenda's always wanted to learn how to knit," Jason heard Sonny say. Now that was something: he knew for a fact that Sonny didn't give a damn about art or clothes any more than he personally did, but to listen to him right now, you'd have thought it was the most fascinating subject in the world. And Jason had to envy that skill as well. "She tried once on her own, but didn't get very far. I think it's the kind of thing you have to be taught – that you have to learn by sitting with another person and watching them and having them show you how to do it again and again."

"That's how it was like with me and Gram," Elizabeth responded. "My parents were always at the hospital, my brother Steven was away getting his medical degree, and my sister and I never got along or spent time together, so I think she saw that I was a bit lonely and she took it upon herself to teach me. She made me that yellow blanket on the couch."

"I saw that," the mobster replied warmly. "First time I came here after you unpacked, I remember seeing that. It's very nice. You working on anything now?"

"Not really. I'll pick something up and work on it for a little while, but I get antsy now, so I put it away. Plus, by that time it's lunch time anyway, and Jason usually comes home to eat. And after lunch I usually read. And there's usually a good movie on after dinner, so…that's how my day goes. I could use Michael around to make things interesting."

"Trust me, that's his strong suit," Sonny laughed. "After you spend an afternoon with him here, you'll need a week to recover…and clean up."

Elizabeth was laughing along, and the sound was beautifully foreign to Jason's ears. "I'll take my chances. How's Brenda doing?"

"She's good. She wanted me to ask if you had any plans for dinner tomorrow."

"Uh, not that I know of. I mean, outside of just eating here with Jason…"

"Actually, she asked because she wants you to have dinner with her and Lois Cerullo. She's an old friend of ours, and Brenda wanted you to meet her."

"Oh, uh, sure, I guess that sounds all right. I'll stop by later and let her know."

"Good, she'd like that. What are you doing now?"

"Now?" Jason heard plastic crinkle. "I think I'm just going to boil some water for lunch."

There was a long, tense pause before Sonny spoke again.

"What the hell is that?"

"…Ramen Noodles?"

Another interminable pause.

"Pasta should never come in cube form."

"Well, it's just noodles. They're quick and easy and cheap, and trust me, a staple for us poor college kids. I used to eat these for dinner every night for a while there."

Another crinkle, and then a thud. Sonny had clearly thrown the offending Euclidian noodles into the garbage.

"Hey, I was going to eat that!"

"You're eating lunch with us," he interrupted firmly. "There's no way I'm letting you sit alone in this penthouse and eat freeze-dried noodles."

"They're not freeze-dried."

"They're abominable on a molecular level," Sonny informed her crossly. "Come on, I've got chicken parmesan in the oven and a fresh salad to go with it. It'll all be done in fifteen minutes. It's just me and Brenda, anyway, so there will be plenty to go around."

"Sonny, really, you don't have to, it's no trouble-"

Jason watched idly as the two of them emerged from the kitchen with his best friend fairly dragging her along with him.

"Elizabeth, from now on, you eat freshly made food, no more Tart-Pops or Ramen Noodles or cereal bars or things that were packaged during the Korean war. You're going to have hot, freshly prepared meals three times a day, and I'll see to that myself. And I don't want to hear a big thing about it. Oh, hey, Jason."

Jason stood back as Sonny came marching past with Elizabeth in tow. His wife gave him a bewildered look, which he replied to with a shrug and a smile. "Get used to it. And say goodbye to soda, too."


	12. Signed, Sealed, Delivered II

**11**

_Flashback…_

"Another story!"

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Michael, that's the fifth one. It's an hour past your bedtime, kid."

He peeked up over the back of the couch that he currently occupied with Elizabeth. "Story! Story! Story!"

"Don't look at me," Jason shrugged, lifting his hands and backing away. "If you want to run the risk of getting your mom and dad mad, ask Elizabeth to read you another story. I'm staying out of this."

"Chicken," the boy muttered, disappearing from view with a giggle when Jason turned to glare at him. "Come on, Lizabeth, another story. I'm not tired. And tomorrow's Sunday, anyway."

"Okay, Michael, but only one more," she warned, picking up another Disney Golden Collection storybook from the stack on the coffee table. "Then you have to go to bed, no games."

"That's what you said after the first one we read him," Jason reminded her, smirking when she rolled her eyes.

"I like it when you guys have to baby-sit," Michael grinned, cuddling up next to his aunt. He was already dressed in his pajamas and now spread the colorful throw blanket over his and Elizabeth's legs. "Okay, go ahead. Make it a good one."

"Sleeping Beauty," Elizabeth began, making sure to show him the cover. "Once upon a time there was a King and Queen in a far-off land. They lived in a big castle with their baby daughter, the Princess Aurora-"

"That's a dumb name for a girl," the little boy interjected. "Let's pick a better one."

Elizabeth wasn't surprised. After all, Michael had insisted on changing the names of all the characters in all the stories she had just finished reading him. Sometimes the hero and heroine were 'randomly' named Sonny and Brenda, and sometimes they were equally 'randomly' named Jason and Lizabeth. And this time probably wouldn't be any different.

"Okay, what name do you like, Michael?"

"What name do _you _think the Princess's name should be?"

"…Hortense."

He wrinkled his nose. "No."

"Ernestine."

"No!"

"Brunilda."

"No no!" Michael got out on a peal of laughter. "Pick something else!"

"Well, you keep shooting down all my ideas, so _you _pick."

"How about…Princess Lizabeth?"

"Princess Elizabeth," she repeated, turning back to the story. "Got it. Okay, so this King and Queen lived in a big castle with their baby daughter Princess Elizabeth. One day a neighboring King visited them at the castle. This King didn't have a Queen, but he did have a son, Prince Phillip, who was a little older than Princess Elizabeth."

"Phillip's not a good name for a prince," Michael sighed. "Pick another one."

"Tallmadge."

"No."

"Ezekiel."

"No!"

"John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Schmidt."

"No no!"

Jason dropped his palm to the dining room table with a dull smack. "How about Prince Jason?"

"That's what I was gonna say," Michael informed his aunt seriously. "Okay, Prince Jason."

"Debatable," Elizabeth murmured, her shoulders shaking with laughter when her husband let out a disgruntled snort. "Okay, Prince Jason it is. So this King came to visit our King and Queen with his son, Prince Jason. They both stopped and looked at Princess Elizabeth in her bassinet, and the King said he thought she was a beautiful baby. The two Kings and the Queen decided that when the children were older and if they agreed, the two of them would get married. And that was how Princess Elizabeth and Prince Ph-Jason came to be engaged."

Michael snorted and rested his head on her arm. "That's so stupid. That's the old way to do it, to just say that two kids are gonna get married when they're older. Marriage is so much better now – now it's because both of them want to, not because someone said they had to. Go on, Lizabeth, keep reading. Why'd you stop?"

She cleared her throat, sucked in a quick breath, and continued. "One day a fortune-teller came to visit the King and Queen at the castle. She was very pretty with long hair and beautiful beads and a big crystal ball. She looked into her ball and saw the King's future…"

The story continued. Jason sat at the dining room table with the day's paper, trying valiantly to read it even though his gaze kept straying toward his wife and nephew cuddled up on the couch. If he had to imagine it – and he tried his hardest not to – he could see what it must have been like for the two of them while they were captives of Manny Ruiz. Elizabeth, though barely legal, had a very warm, motherly way about her and Michael really responded to it.

"When Princess Elizabeth entered the attic at the big castle, she found the one spinning wheel that the King and Queen hadn't hidden."

"A spinning wheel is a dumb idea," Michael pouted. "Change it to…guns."

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she discreetly looked over her shoulder at Jason, who was now paying attention. "Uh, Michael, I don't think-"

"Needles don't hurt at all," he explained. "They're just like hospital shots. I get hospital shots all the time, and the nurse holds me down like she thinks I'm going to kick the doctor or something, and I get a lollipop afterward. They don't even hurt. Not like guns."

He rubbed his nose with his sleeve and studied the picture of the spinning wheel in the book. "Dr. Patrick said Max was hurt real bad when he got shot in the chest. He said he couldn't get out of bed for a long time because of how bad he got hurt. There are so many things that hurt worse than a stupid hospital shot. I don't get why the person who wrote this is crying about needles. Needles don't hurt anything like when someone gets shot."

Slowly, Jason rose from his seat and circled the couch, mulling over his nephew's long-winded explanation. He had no idea that Michael remembered when Max got shot. It had been an awful event: an ambush had gone wrong and both Johnny and Max had gotten shot. Patrick said that if the bullet had entered one-quarter inch to the left, it would have hit Max's spine. They'd all been very lucky that night.

"That's right, buddy, it does hurt when someone gets shot." He stooped and lifted Michael in his arms, pulling the blanket off Elizabeth's lap in the process, and then sat down in the spot he'd vacated. He situated his nephew in his lap and tossed the other end of the throw over his wife.

"But Max got better, and now he's much more careful." He pressed a kiss to the top of Michael's head. "We're all careful."

"Uncle Jason got shot, too, did you know that, Lizabeth?" Before he could be stopped, the little boy lifted up his uncle's t-shirt and traced a scar on his side. "He got shot saving my mom when I was in her tummy. 'Cause he didn't want me or her to get hurt. He knew he was gonna get shot, but he did it anyway."

"That's very brave," she replied, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. "But sometimes people get shot on accident, too, Michael, which is why we all have to be very careful around guns. Like how we should never pick up a gun that doesn't belong to us, and we should never play with guns or put our finger on the trigger, in case someone accidentally gets hurt."

"I know that," he said with just a touch of righteousness. "My dad and Uncle Jason told me all about that. They keep their guns in locked boxes so that there aren't any accidents."

"And you would never try to take their guns out of the boxes, would you?" Elizabeth probed, relieved when he shook his head vehemently. "Good boy. Something tells me you already know a lot about how to stay safe with guns."

"I do," he asserted. "Mom got me this book about guns, too, and she read it to me and it had all these rules and pictures about what you're not supposed to do. Some of the stuff in there was wrong, though. It said that only bad people carry guns, except police officers, and that's not true or Uncle Jason and my dad would be bad people, but they're not."

"No, they're not," she agreed. After all, she wasn't about to get into that gray area with a five-year-old. "But sometimes it's real tricky to list all the people that can carry guns but aren't bad, so for a book like that, they just say that so that kids will understand. Guns are very dangerous, like you said, and they can hurt you both on purpose and on accident, so it's important for all kids to know to stay away."

"That's why I think Princess Elizabeth should prick her finger on a gun instead," Michael explained. "See, guns are a lot more dangerous than spinning wheels and she just finds one on accident in the old attic. She didn't mean to, it just happened. And since it just happened, she can learn a lesson from it and not be so nosey next time and touch things that don't belong to her."

"Okay, so Princess Elizabeth was looking around in an old castle where everyone else was sleeping and pricked her finger on a gun," Jason said. "Back to the story."

Elizabeth shrugged and returned to the page she'd dog-eared. "She pricked her finger and…oh, here we are. She fell into a long sleep just as the fortuneteller had said. She slept on and on, with no hope of waking. Meanwhile, in the forest, Prince Jason met Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather, the three good fairies…"

"Max, Johnny, and MerriRitchie," Michael corrected.

"Right, sorry. Meanwhile, in the forest, Prince Jason met Max, Johnny, and MerriRitchie, the three good fairies that lived in the woods and took care of Princess Elizabeth. They were very worried about the Princess because she had been missing for quite some time, so they asked Prince Jason for his help."

"He's gonna help," the boy confided to no one in particular. "That's just what he does."

Five minutes and a couple corrections later, there was finally an end in sight. Jason rested his chin on Michael's head, one arm wrapped around the boy's tummy and the other stretched out along the back of the couch, just barely touching his wife's arm. As they were sitting, he could see the wispy hair right by her ears flutter with his every breath.

"And so the evil witch Scott Baldwin conjured up a big green dragon to battle Prince Jason as he tried to find Princess Elizabeth."

"Manny Ruiz."

"…So the evil witch Scott Baldwin conjured up a great, big green Manny Ruiz to battle Prince Jason as he tried to find Princess Elizabeth."

"Right. Go on."

"He fought long and hard with the fire-breathing Manny Ruiz and finally rammed his sword through Manny's belly. Manny burst into a puff of green smoke and died, and Prince Jason went after the evil witch Scott Baldwin. He imprisoned the evil witch, never to be freed, and raced up the stairs to the tower where Princess Elizabeth was asleep in her bed."

"Here comes the good part," Michael whispered to his uncle, elbowing him in the stomach. "It's kinda mushy, though."

Elizabeth hid a smirk and continued reading. "He found Princess Elizabeth fast asleep and recognized her as the girl that he met in the forest. Prince Jason went up to her bed and watched her sleep. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He put away his sword and knelt by her bed, and kissed her."

"Phew," the little boy muttered, mostly to his amused uncle. "The mushy part's over."

"His kiss pulled Princess Elizabeth from her sleep, and she opened her eyes and saw Prince Jason standing there. Slowly, the rest of the inhabitants of the palace awoke, too. The King and Queen woke from their beds and realized that that Scott Baldwin's evil spell had been broken.

"Princess Elizabeth fell in love with Prince Jason. She was reunited with her parents and she and Prince Jason were soon married, and they lived happily ever after. The end."

Michael let out a sigh as Elizabeth snapped the book shut and stretched out between his aunt and uncle. "Good story. Princess Lizabeth and Prince Jason saw each other and fell in love and got married. Just like you guys."

Jason tried to fight as smirk as he watched the color rise in Elizabeth's cheek. "Gettin' a little ham-fisted there, Michael."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

--------------------------

_Flashback…_

Jason had just returned home from his first business trip since his wedding. He'd been reluctant to leave Elizabeth behind because it was so much easier to convince himself he could keep her safe when she was physically with him, but in the end he had no choice. Sonny needed him, so the two of them had packed a light bag and taken the jet out to Vegas and returned home a full day in advance, thank God. 

He let himself into his penthouse and dropped his bag to the floor before stripping off his jacket. He left it on the back of his desk chair and kicked off his boots in the vague direction of the closet. Once he'd washed his hands and face in the little bathroom down the hall, he headed straight to the kitchen to see if Elizabeth had any take-out sitting in the fridge that he could reheat.

He'd barely made it a step or two into the kitchen when he heard twin gasps and found himself staring at equally wide-eyed Spinelli and Elizabeth.

The two gaped at him, and Spinelli was the first one to find his face. "Stone Cold! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be home until tomorrow!"

He frowned at the kid and his wife, both of whom looked equally surprised and guilty. "Yeah, so? Got home early. We got anything to eat? Oh, you made brownies."

Jason reached out, much to Elizabeth and Spinelli's horror, and made a grab for a tray of warm brownies sitting on the counter between the two of them. Spinelli sputtered something unintelligible and snatched the tray back until it was safely out of reach.

"What's wrong with you?" Jason groused.

"You can't have these!" Spinelli blurted out.

"And why the hell not?"

"Because…because…" Elizabeth's eyes darted left and right as she tried to think. "You don't like brownies."

"Yeah, I do," he replied crossly, reaching for the pan again. This time, he succeeded in grabbing a large one. "Who made these?"

Spinelli and Elizabeth watched with identically guilty expressions as he lifted the brownie to his mouth. "Uh…it was a joint venture."

"He did it."

"I did not! It was all her idea! She made me!"

"He supplied the secret ingredient! He has a whole stash under his floorboards! I saw it!"

"Oh, that is the LAST time I share with you! Make your own connections!"

"The hell are you two talking about?" Jason grumbled around a mouthful of chocolate. "And what's in these things? They're pretty good."

His friend and his wife stopped and stared at him, unblinking. "…You like them?"

He reached for another and stuffed it into his mouth. "Yeah, they're good."

Spinelli and Elizabeth exchanged sideways glances and slow, knowing smiles. Jason watched the exchange curiously, wondering what sort of inside jokes those two could possibly share, but before he could voice the apprehension, Spinelli smirked at him and pushed the pan forward.

"Want another?" he asked as Elizabeth stifled a laugh.

And that had been Jason Morgan's introduction to marijuana-brownies, or as Spinelli and Elizabeth, the resident college students, referred to them: brownies.


	13. Signed, Sealed, Delivered III

**12 (NC-17)**

_Flashback…_

She had no idea how Jason could move, much less manage to pick her up and carry her. But there he was, carrying her in his arms down the hall to their master bedroom after tenderly wrapping her grandmother's blanket around her naked form.

He had already made love to her on the floor behind her sofa, and then again on the stairs as they'd tried to get to the bedroom, and nothing could have prepared Elizabeth for how much she would enjoy herself. Jason was everything she never let herself imagine: raw, aggressive, eager, but still considerate, unselfish, and tender.

Elizabeth groaned and nuzzled his neck as he carried her under the threshold and into their bedroom. "Jason, I can't."

One of his large hands squeezed the curve of her bottom. "Yes, you can."

She had to laugh at that as he hastily crossed over to their massive bed. "How do you know?"

He deposited her on the bed and crawled over her, his hair falling into his face and his eyes glittering wickedly. "What, you don't trust me? Fine, I'll prove it."

And then he leaned down and kissed her so fiercely that Elizabeth actually had to fist the bedsheets to keep from screaming. His mouth moved insistently over hers, but gradually the aggression in the kiss melted away and the kiss became slow, seductive, hot and teasing all at the same time. It was the kind of kiss that made her toes curl, the kind of kiss that made something inside her turn molten and then melt away, and Elizabeth was powerless to keep her body from reacting to him.

He knew it, too, the bastard. Reluctantly pulling away from her, he braced his weight on one elbow and loomed over her, his eyes sweeping over her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and starry eyes. His other hand he skimmed down her throat, through the valley of her breasts, over her quivering stomach, and right to the center of her. 

Elizabeth let out a startled gasp and bucked off the bed when his finger traced her swollen slit. Her reaction only made Jason laugh, and he lowered his lips to her earlobe and nuzzled the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Told you."

She groaned in reply and wrapped her arms around his shoulder, spearing her fingers through his thick hair and raking her nails over his scalp. She used to think that the problem was that her husband had no idea what he did to her; now she knew that the problem was that the bastard did. And he used it to his advantage, too.

There was no need for more foreplay. After how he'd pleasured her on the floor behind the couch and then stroked her when she rode him on the stairs, stretching her as taut as he could before Elizabeth thought she'd snap altogether into a million tiny pieces, there just wasn't anything left for him to do, no greater height for him to stroke her to. She wanted him so badly that she could barely see straight. After months of silently lusting after him (and forbidding herself to do so) she finally had him, and she couldn't get enough of him. At the rate they were going, Elizabeth had no doubt that he'd only have to look at her tomorrow morning to get her fully in the mood.

Jason kissed her soundly, taking his time once again exploring the sweet recesses of her mouth. He always thought that she had a mouth made for kissing, and he was nowhere close to getting his fill. He had no idea how the woman did it, but she set something on fire inside him, something that burned and burned and burned until it consumed him, until his love for her entirely consumed him and he wasn't sure where he started and she began.

Of course, he'd have to tell her that. Tonight changed everything. He'd never expected it all to happen this way, but this night really had changed everything. There was no way he'd be able to go back to his frigid, sterile marriage after getting to know her so intimately. There could be no more stalling about it, no more misunderstandings, no more miscommunication. He'd have to tell her that he loved her, that he loved her and wanted to stay married to her and that she was the best, most perfectly unexpected thing that had ever happened to him. 

He'd tell her in the morning.

She mewed her appreciation when he nibbled his way down the column of her throat, pausing to brand her as his own. His fingers stroked her warm flesh, ascertaining whether she was truly ready or not, and he found her hot and wet and more than ready for him.

Elizabeth bit her lip and arched her neck as he slid into her, moving slowly so as to prolong her pleasure. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, her nails bit into his skin, and when she finally couldn't stand it any longer, she framed her face in her hands and pulled him down to her. 

Jason snarled against her mouth, his hips moving now in an ancient rhythm that she responded to beautifully. He heard her breath quicken, felt her heart beating faster, and picked up the pace. His thrusts were smooth but fast, urging her along to greater heights. Elizabeth let out a little wail and Jason slipped his hands under her bottom, tilting her up to meet him.

He found his release first and fought not to collapse on top of her, and Jason knew exactly when she let go because her muscles clenched around him and she sighed his name on a breathy little moan that would have sent his blood singing through his veins again if he weren't so tired.

He was on his side and still panting heavily by the time her breathing returned to normal, and Jason gently slipped out of her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. He rolled over until he was above her, balancing his weight on his arms, and nudged her lips with his. Her eyes were closed but Elizabeth responded anyway, lazily bringing a hand up to sweep his hair out of his face. 

He felt her lashes flutter as he nibbled on her plush lower lip, and then she spoke. "Jason?"

He loved how she sounded after he took her: exhausted, dreamy, and loved. "Yeah?"

She sighed when he raked his teeth across her lip. "W-What happens in the morning?"

Jason paused and lifted his head, considering the question as he looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, but there was a tension to the way she held her mouth and the way her hand stilled in his hair. She was asking a whole lot more than the question let on.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers and swept his tongue into her mouth, tasting her and kissing her thoroughly. She mewed in response, opening up for him, and held him close. 

"Tomorrow?" He brushed his lips over hers, his eyes now closed as her hands skimmed up his sides. "Tomorrow we shower together, and then I make you breakfast."

She let out a breathless little sigh, sounding relieved and aroused all at the same time. "O-Oh. I guess that sounds okay."

-------------------------

_End flashback…_

Jason let out a troubled sigh and rubbed his eyes. His vision was bleary from all the scotch but remarkably, his mind had never felt more clear.

It would do him no good to sit here and reminisce about his moments with Elizabeth. No doubt, the ones he remembered so fondly were ones she remembered with disgust. All he was doing was reliving the futile, agonizing over the hopeless, and that was never the sort of man he was.

There was only one thing left to do.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand and turned it over in his hand. The object felt foreign to him, but he was never without it. He flipped it open and took a moment to offer thanks for speed-dial; there was no way he would have been able to punch all those little numbers by himself.

He waited the duration of three rings before he heard her voice. Not particularly caring that his was almost certainly slurred, Jason closed his eyes, rested his head against the headboard, and issued the order that everyone else – the all important third party in his sterile marriage, that 'everyone else' – deemed so long overdue.

"Diane. Draw up the papers."


	14. This Modern Love

**13**

For the past week, Elizabeth had been at the Greystone. She'd tricked them all and cloistered herself in the mansion that belonged to her husband while Jason remained behind at Harborview Towers. 

Personally, Max was amazed that they'd fallen for it. When she had gotten enough rest and replenished her fluids, Elizabeth finally emerged from Penthouse IV and said that there were a few things she needed that she hadn't seen across the hall, meaning that they were still at the other house.

Max and Milo had readily agreed to drive her over there so that she could gather them personally – they had learned their lesson about poking through a woman's belongings and being totally traumatized for life back when Sonny was dating Brenda – and the three of them left immediately. He and his brother waited in the foyer while Elizabeth went upstairs to presumably collect her things, but had gotten suspicious when they heard the shower running.

They waited around in the upstairs office until they heard Elizabeth come out of the bathroom and when they confronted her, she calmly informed them that she would not be returning to Harborview Towers and that they could just go soak their heads.

It was the first time they'd been given such a directive, so the brothers immediately called Sonny and explained the ordeal. Sonny had wisely decided not to aggravate the situation and had instead ordered that extra guards be posted at the Greystone. Elizabeth could remain there as long as she wanted and if Jason ever chose to come out of his penthouse, he could deal with her decision then.

But in the end, it was the wife that came to see her husband first.

Jason had finally emerged from his bedroom, showered, shaved, changed into something clean, and actually came downstairs. His first order of business, after putting on a pot of coffee, of course, was to get Max to call up Elizabeth and let her know that she was expected at his penthouse in an hour.

He had barely made it out of the kitchen on his way to go find his top guard when there was a knock at the door. Max poked his head in, saw Jason, and gestured behind him.

"Boss, uh, Mrs. Morgan is here to see you."

"Thank you, Max," Elizabeth smiled tightly, slipping out from behind him. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to him alone."

The guard nodded, even though he seemed reluctant to leave them alone together, and managed a small smile in return. "Sure, sure. I'm right outside if anyone needs me."

Elizabeth waited until he had pulled the door securely shut, and then turned toward her husband. He looked as he always did: insufferably put together from his freshly washed hair to the toes of his scuffed boots. He didn't look one bit like he'd spent the last week agonizing and stressing and then stress-vomiting. 

Bastard.

"Hi."

He was staring at her as if he hadn't seen her in years. "Hey."

They stood in silence for a long moment, neither one wanting to give too much away. It had all just gotten too hard; they'd never even had a chance. And the only way to deal with this situation now was to do so as adults.

"I came because there was something I needed to show you," Elizabeth started, reaching for her purse. She pulled out a stylish pocketbook and flicked the snap open, withdrawing a stapled packet of folded papers.

Jason watched curiously as she smoothed them and held them out. "What's this?"

"Blood work," she replied, positioning her thumb by the pertinent part. "Brenda and I went to General Hospital for my check-up and we asked Robin to put a rush on it. I'm not pregnant."

It shouldn't have felt like a sucker-punch to the gut – after all, they hadn't talked about children and given their marital circumstances, they both knew in the back of their minds that children would have been the worst possible addition to an already dismal situation – but it did. And as Jason stared at the clinical notes and numbers and Robin's chicken-scratch little signature, all he could hear was Elizabeth crying on the couch at Sonny's the night she'd been rescued.

According to Brenda, she'd prayed to every higher power out there that night not to be carrying his child, and she'd gotten her wish. She was free, unspoiled, safe. They were both free and safe, ready to move on to the next chapter of their lives.

Elizabeth's eyes widened when his fingers tightened, causing the paper to crackle audibly. Something in Jason's eyes had changed, and his expression was tight and stormy. He clenched the papers in his hand, fisting them, and slowly took a few steps toward her.

By the time she realized that he was going for the desk drawer, she had already recoiled in fright. The gesture only made Jason's expression fiercer, and his eyes glittered like steel as he pulled a file out of the drawer and held it out to her.

"Here."

She eyed him and the papers suspiciously, scarcely daring to hope. "What is this?"

"Our divorce papers. All you have to do is sign where Diane marked it."

Her lips parted in surprise, and all Elizabeth could do was stare at him as he offered her salvation.

His expression grew angrier, if at all possible. "The hell are you waiting for? Take it!"

She reached out and gingerly took hold of the file, the reality of the situation sinking in only when she felt its solid weight in her hand. "I…Oh."

He watched sternly as she carefully opened the file and stared at the papers, wide-eyed. Her astonishment and speechless, disbelieving delight were hardly complimentary. "You can have someone look them over if you want, but there's not really necessary."

Jason cleared his throat and glared darkly at her as she continued to skim the settlement. "Just drop them by Diane's office and she'll file them as soon as possible."

Elizabeth had found the exact dollar amount. He knew she had by the way her eyes widened in surprise. "Alimony – Jason, you don't have to-"

"I don't want to hear it," he growled.

But his soon-to-be-ex-wife wouldn't be cowed and she lifted her gaze to his without flinching. "I don't want this much. I don't want any. I've earned my own keep since I moved out of my parents' house – well, except for during our, er, never mind – and I'm not comfortable taking your money this way, Jason."

His expression didn't change. "It's already done."

"What?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "No, it's not, not until I sign and we file these. You can still change your mind."

Jason didn't even have anything left inside him to smile at the irony of her remark. "The first payment's already been wired and will continue to be wired at the first of every month. And I don't want to hear anything else about it."

"But-"

The damn fool little woman had no idea what was good for her.

"I don't want to hear it!" he snapped, unable to take it any longer. "You wanted the divorce – you got your damn divorce! Everything's been cleaned up, everything's been taken care of, and everything's been settled. There is _nothing _to talk about anymore!"

She had gone at least two shades paler. Good. Served her right. "But I just wanted to say-"

He let out a snarl and resisted the urge to throw the balled-up blood report at her. That was what he did sometimes when things got out of hand: he threw things. But no matter how his temper raged now, he'd never be able to physically lift a hand – or anything else – to her. 

"There's _nothing _left to say! What the hell are even doing here still? It's done!" Now that he had started, there was no stopping him. "It's over. You wanted your divorce, you got your divorce. The last thing I need is you standing here talking about it. Get out! Just – just get out!"

Her eyes glistened, and the sight only made him feel worse inside. "Jason, I-"

"Get out!" he bellowed, his voice so forceful and enraged that Max threw open the front door in a panic and almost collided with Elizabeth. "Get the hell out of here! If I can't have you, I don't want to see you, understand? Get out!"

Fat tears clung to her lashes, and Elizabeth whirled around and darted past Max and into the hallway. The guard stared at his boss but upon receiving a positively murderous glare, quickly backed out and shut the door behind him.

And while Elizabeth soon-to-be Webber punched the elevator button furiously in her haste to leave Harborview Towers far, far behind her, Jason Morgan picked up his bottle of scotch and began to drink in earnest. 


	15. Bleed Myself Dry

**14**

"Spinelli, honey, sit down and eat," Brenda coaxed, running her hand through the boy's silky brown hair. He might have been two-thirds her age, but Spinelli still felt like her kid in every way that mattered. "You've been running around for hours. Sit, relax. We made your favorite."

He eyed the spaghetti and meatballs on his plate longingly. "I'd love to, Goddess, but the Jackal should really go check on Stone Cold again. He's not doing so good."

"Nothing a little detox and rehab wouldn't fix," she muttered dryly. "Spinelli, he's a grown man. He can take care of himself. He doesn't need or want you running yourself ragged over him. Please, kid, come on, eat something. You've been working so hard since the new territory acquisitions; just take a little break."

He allowed her to pull him toward the dining table. "But Stone Cold's been drinking and-"

"You know Jason well enough by now to know that when he gets really upset, he drinks," Brenda informed him somberly. "It's just how he deals. He'll drink, he'll go to sleep, and he'll wake up and throw himself back in his work. I've seen it over and over again before."

"But…but…" Spinelli's green eyes kept darting toward the door. "He's really bad this time, Goddess. I found an empty bottle of scotch, and he hasn't gotten out of bed in two days. He's just lying there – lying there? Laying there? Lying there? – laying there with the curtains down and the lights off, and the whole room stinks, and I don't want him to choke on his vomit and die."

Brenda patted his head and watched as he shoveled a huge forkful into his mouth. "He's going to be okay. I asked Max and Milo to check on him every hour, see if he needs anything to eat or drink or if he needs help getting up. They'll take care of him, I promise. He's not going to choke on his vomit and die."

The boy sighed heavily. "I just feel so bad for him."

Slowly, Brenda took her seat next to his. "Because of the divorce."

Spinelli nodded slowly and poked a meatball with his fork. "I think he really loved her. I mean, he had no idea how to show it, and I'm sorry to say that I think he probably terrorized the Fair One, so no wonder she wanted out, but still. I think he really loved her. And it's sad that he has no choice but to get over it. How do you 'get over' love?"

Brenda sighed sadly as her gaze traveled to the door. "I guess you find yourself a bottle of scotch and hope it makes things a little better."

He shook his head and resumed poking at his food. "And he'd never be the type to talk to us about how he feels because Stone Cold doesn't do that, and that will just make him feel even more lonely and upset. He doesn't have anyone to talk to. And he wouldn't talk even if he did."

There was a knock at the door and both Spinelli and Brenda looked over in time to see Max poke his head in. "Uh, hey, Mrs. C. There's someone here to see you guys."

-----------------------------

_Twenty minutes later…_

"Michael, honey, it's nobody's fault," Elizabeth tried to explain.

But the little boy still pouted. "Then why are you _leaving_?"

"Because I have to," she replied gently. "I can't stay here forever, Michael. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I have a life in Boston. I work there, and I go to school there – I haven't even finished going to school. That was something I promised myself I would do, go to college and get a degree, and you know how important promises like that are, right?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"And all my friends are there, all the people that care about me."

"But we care about you," he persisted, rocking forward in his father's lap. Sonny shushed him gently and wrapped his arms around the little boy's stomach. "We do! Me and Dad and Mom and Max and Milo and Ritchie and Spelli and Uncle Jason and-"

"I know, honey, I know," she soothed, reaching out for him. "Come here. There." 

He rested his head on her shoulder, his forehead against her neck, and Elizabeth smoothed his silky hair away from his face.

"I know this is all hard to understand and that it's all happening so fast. That's how I feel, too, believe it or not. But I can't put this off any longer."

Michael's lower lip jutted out a little further. "I don't get why you couldn't stay a little longer."

"Because if I don't leave now, I don't think I'll ever be able to get out," Elizabeth whispered back. Her hand moved slowly up and down the boy's back in perfect, lulling rhythm. "And this is something I have to do."

His little frown was still firmly in place. "So you weren't happy being married to Uncle Jason?"

There was no easy answer to that, and certainly no answer appropriate for a little boy that worshipped his fearless uncle. Still, Elizabeth did her best to muddle through the most honest response she could formulate.

"Your uncle's a very special man," she started, patting his tummy. It was the perfect way to begin, really. Non-committal, and just vague enough to be considered a compliment. "And I don't regret meeting him or marrying him."

That was certainly true. She didn't regret meeting him because if he hadn't forced his way into Manny's warehouse lair, she and Michael both would have been dead. And she didn't regret marrying him because if he hadn't forced her to recite her wedding vows, she probably would have been dead.

Yeah, this really had not been her year. Jesus.

"But I don't think it was the right time for us," she hedged. "And I don't think we did it the right way. There are so many things I admire about your uncle, but if we stayed married, we'd just keep fighting over stupid little things and we'd make each other sad. And I don't think your uncle deserves to be sad for the rest of his life, do you?"

Michael reluctantly shook his head. "No. I hate it when he's sad. That's when he gets on his motorcycle and goes away for a week without calling us."

"And this time, I'm going away so that he doesn't have to," Elizabeth explained gently. "I'm going away so that he can stay here with you and your dad and your mom and all his friends. You guys knew him longer, anyway. It's not fair if I steal all of you from him."

That didn't earn her a smile. "Isn't Uncle Jason sad about this? Aren't you?"

"We're both sad that things had to happen this way," she replied truthfully. "But sometimes, you have to put up with a little bit of pain and a little bit of sadness because in the end, you're doing what's best for yourself. Like, you know how you go get hospital-shots sometimes?"

He nodded.

"Well, it hurts for a second, but then you get a lollipop. And you know that you're going to be healthy for a long time, until you get the next hospital-shot. No one likes pain, but you go through it for a little bit because you know in the end, it will keep you healthy. It's the same here. We're both sad that things didn't work out – and sometimes they don't work out, and it's no one's fault, not Uncle Jason's, not mine, and definitely not yours – but we know that this is better than staying together and being unhappy. Your uncle's a strong man, and he's going to be okay."

She shifted the child on her lap and tipped his chin up so that Michael was looking directly at her. "But you know how you can help?"

Her question intrigued him, and Michael tilted his head to the side and waited for her answer.

"You can help take care of him," she told him. "You can spend time with him and tell him you love him and be there for him. Your uncle told me how you were always so good at taking care of him, and he's going to need you now. Can you do that, buddy?"

Michael nodded slowly. "But who's gonna take care of you?"

"I'll be okay, honey," Elizabeth smiled, resting her forehead against his. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay. But I'm gonna miss you."

She rose from the couch, taking him with her, and Sonny and Brenda stood as well. They watched quietly as Elizabeth hugged Michael, holding him tightly in her arms, and pulled back only to kiss his forehead, his cheek, his nose.

"You're such a good boy," she murmured. "And I'm so glad I got to know you. You stay cool, all right? Listen to your mom and dad, and take care of your uncle, okay? And remember, if you give Milo peanut M&Ms, he'll let you sit on his lap while he drives."

That finally earned her a grin. "Kay."

She kissed him one last time and closed her eyes. "Goodbye, Michael."

"Bye, Lizabeth."

She swallowed roughly and passed the little boy to his father before she could start to cry. Sonny took hold of him and held him against his chest, one hand under Michael's legs for support. Elizabeth met his somber black eyes with just the slightest trepidation and managed the smallest smile possible.

"I'm sorry about all this, Sonny."

He knew exactly what she was apologizing – the divorce, hurting Jason, not being strong enough to handle this for a day longer, for stealing so many months of their lives – and he also knew that none of it was necessary.

So Sonny shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for. And for what it's worth, I'm glad that we got to know you, too."

The slightest bit of weight lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," she got out, not entirely convinced now that she could leave without getting emotional. This was supposed to be a clean break, after all, but here she was getting all misty-eyed. She just hadn't realized that in being Mrs. Morgan, she really would come to think of the Corinthos family as her family as well.

"I'll never be able to repay you for your kindness and protection."

Again, he shook his head. "I wouldn't want you to."

Casting one last long look in his direction, Elizabeth turned to her sister-in-law. Brenda, whose eyes were also shimmering with unshed tears, wordlessly wrapped her arms around Elizabeth's shoulder.

"Keep in touch," she whispered. "Promise me you'll keep in touch."

She wouldn't. Elizabeth already knew that she wouldn't, that she couldn't possibly, but that didn't stop her from nodding. "I will. Take care, Bren."

"Call us when you get to Boston," she got out as Elizabeth slid out of the embrace and reached for her purse and backpack. She had three duffel bags out in the hall, and Max and Milo were waiting in the car downstairs. She had wanted to call a cab and slink off her own way, but they had asked her to do them this one last favor, so she really had no choice but to agree. 

"Just so we know you got there safe."

That much she could do. "I will, promise."

Shouldering her backpack, she gazed back at the Corinthos family and hesitantly held her hand up in an unmoving wave, a gesture of surrender, she wasn't sure what, and backed toward the door.

"Goodbye."

--------------------------------

_Nightfall…_

Michael Corinthos III hadn't touched his s'mores.

They were his comfort food. Some people liked macaroni and cheese, others liked mashed potatoes, still others liked fried chicken. But whenever Michael was sad, he liked s'mores. The fact that his father rarely allowed chocolate in their house – meaning that his uncle and the guards were responsible for sneaking in and replenishing his mother's stash way at the back of the pantry – somehow made s'mores that much more special.

But tonight he just didn't want them. His mom was even letting him spoil his dinner and have them, but he didn't want them. Sure, he'd swept some of the marshmallow cream onto his finger and licked it off to appease her, but he made no further move.

Currently, he was camped out on the couch under the colorful throw blanket that reminded him of Elizabeth's afghan. His dad had even put on the cartoons – and his dad hated cartoons – but Michael wasn't watching. Instead, he was lying with his head on his mother's lap and sucking his thumb, something he hadn't done for years.

"Honey, why don't you eat something?" Brenda coaxed, running her hand through her son's dark hair. "Dad and I can order pizza. You love pizza."

"And you can eat it on the couch if you want," Sonny offered, trying to be helpful. Michael was their first child, after all, and they spoiled him terribly when they were of a mind to do so. Tonight was no different: they would have offered to lasso him the moon if it would take that little frown off his face and the tears from his eyes. They'd never seen him this upset before, but it made sense. Michael never had to lose anyone important in his life before, and Elizabeth had been the first person in all their lives that was Michael's friend first. 

"I'm not hungry," Michael sniffled, snuggling closer to his mother. Brenda let out a little cluck and wrapped her arms around her little boy, looking helplessly over at her husband.

"Okay, son," Sonny started, easing himself onto the floor by the couch so that he was at Michael's eye level. "I know you're sad about Elizabeth leaving, but she's going to call in a couple hours from Boston and, tell you what? Your mom and I will make sure we wake you up so that you can talk to her. Will that make you feel better?"

Michael nodded.

"It's never easy to lose someone," his father continued, taking one of his son's little hands in his own and studying it just the way he'd studied it when Michael had been born. Like any nervous father, Sonny had counted all his fingers and toes the first time he held them just to be sure they were all there. "But unfortunately, son, it's a part of life."

"And there are different ways to lose people," Brenda added. "We lost your Gramma Adella when you were a year old. She's in heaven now, and she's happy there, but we won't ever get to see her again."

"But Elizabeth's just in the next state. You can call her up and talk to her whenever you want," Sonny told him. "And maybe we can go visit her sometime. I know you're sad that she's not here anymore, but there are still ways for you to be close to her."

But Michael shook his head. "It won't be the same."

"Why not?"

"Because she's not _here_," he got out, his lower lip wobbling. "I can't see her or touch here. Hearing her voice isn't the same."

He sighed and curled into an even tighter ball. "When Manny grabbed me and then Lizabeth, she was the one that made me feel less scared. She always pushed me behind her when one of the men came down to talk to us or give us our food. And she always carried me if we had to move. She said it was okay because I was small and didn't weigh much. And if I couldn't sleep at night, she'd put her coat around me and hold me until I did."

Brenda's eyes had already welled with tears as Michael miserably swiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand. "It's not the same unless she's _here_."

Unbeknownst to them, there was a man standing just outside the door to Penthouse IV that felt the same. A man that had gotten up, showered, dressed, put away the alcohol, and come over to see if his nephew was okay. A man that had listened to all of that, and now found little else to do but beat a slow retreat to his own penthouse once again and find a better way to address his own loneliness.


	16. For The Best

**15**

_One month later…_

She hadn't spoken – _really _spoken – to Sonny, Brenda, or Michael since her first night back home. She'd called them at midnight to let them know that after a ten-hour drive, she was there in one piece. Sonny had been the first to pick up, and he'd actually taken the time to inquire as to her safety, learn of her future plans now that she was back, and wish her the absolute best before he handed the phone to his wife and presumably went upstairs to get his son.

Brenda's voice had sounded a little thick, but she covered it well and chattered on and on. She had to know everything: where was Elizabeth living? Was it in a safe area? Had she met up with any of her old friends yet? Did they know that she was back in town? Was she going to tell them of what had happened? Was she going to reenroll in school? Wasn't it too late for that now? Was she going to work until the fall semester started again? Where was she working? Did she need a reference? How much did it pay? Would she like what she would do?

She had answered all of those questions as best as she could, and by that time Michael could be heard clamoring in the background to talk to her. She'd stayed on the phone with that little boy for an hour and finally gently explained that they should go when Michael's yawns became too disruptive to hold a conversation. Reluctantly, the little boy agreed and passed the phone to his father, who wished her a good night and told her to call if she ever needed anything.

But Elizabeth had already resolved not to need anything from Jason Morgan or his family. Her ex-husband already signed on to pay her a generous monthly sum as alimony, money that she had decided not to touch except in the case of an emergency, and there was absolutely nothing she ever wanted to take from him again.

So Elizabeth didn't call the Corinthos family. And when she picked up her phone two nights later and saw their surname on the ID, she didn't pick up. And when they called again the next night, she picked up only to say that she was fine but that she couldn't talk much because she was on her way out the door. And after hanging up, she had changed into her pajamas and watched whatever was on the Travel channel for three hours.

Gradually, the calls stopped coming altogether, and Elizabeth was glad for that. She had already disrupted their lives long enough. Despite what Sonny and Jason did for a living, they were good men. And Michael and Brenda and her friends among the guards were good people, as well. They didn't need her disrupting their lives anymore. They'd never expected to meet her, they never _should _have met her, and they certainly shouldn't have had to treat her as family.

Especially when all she had wanted the whole time was to pack up and leave and forget about the whole traumatic ordeal of being married to one of the most powerful men on the East coast.

Now that she was gone, they could get on with their lives and forget about her as well. That was how it was supposed to be. They could all just pretend that none of this had ever happened, and they'd all be better for it. Sure, it would hurt Michael for a while, and she was truly sorry for that. It would hurt her, too, forbidding herself contact with a little boy she'd gotten remarkably close to and felt at least partly responsible for in the oddest maternal way. But in the end, it would be for the best.

For now, she had to concentrate on getting her own life together. Her parents, naturally, didn't know anything about what happened and she didn't want them to. They had called her cell for their customary Christmas call and she'd pretended that she was still in Boston on winter break and about to go ice-skating with her friends. They definitely didn't need to know that she had gotten both married and divorced in less than a year; they already thought of her as the family screw-up, and this certainly wouldn't help matters. 

She was back in Boston and living in a tiny little studio right off campus, 1234 Commonwealth Avenue. She loved the address just for the 1234 – really, it was the most perfect address anyone could hope to have – but she knew all the same that she probably wouldn't stay here very long. It was too late to jump back into her spring semester as if nothing had happened. Technically, she could have: the university would have allowed it. But so much had happened to her since she was last on campus and she was still dealing with it. Jumping back into her heavy course load would have been too much, and she probably wouldn't have done very well.

Instead, she got a job. Or, rather, she was _trying_ to get a job.

She still had some money in the bank, thanks to the generous trust fund her grandparents had set up for her, so she could hold off on dipping into her alimony. Her apartment was paid off for the next two months, she had enough for her bills and her food, and she didn't need much else. Almost all of her stuff had been unpacked from her bags and brought over from public storage, so she was set in that department. The only thing missing was the yellow afghan her Gram had made for her; try as she would, she couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. She had another one in lavender, but still. She liked the yellow one.

The phone rang just then, breaking through the silence, and Elizabeth quickly checked the caller ID just in case it was from the Corinthos residence. Breathing a sigh of relief when it wasn't, though a little nervous because she didn't recognize the number, Elizabeth picked up. 

"Hello?"

_"Elizabeth?" _It was a woman on the other end. _"Oh, good, it's you! I lost your cell number and I was so afraid that this wasn't the right number. Very good, thank you, Clarice, it was the right one. You can go now."_

Having clearly dismissed her assistant so that they could talk in private, Kate Howard got right back to the conversation at hand, not knowing that Elizabeth was so shocked to receive this call from someone in Jason's circle that she couldn't have formed words if she tried.

_"Elizabeth, honey, it's Kate. Trevor and I just heard about what happened and we're both so terribly sorry things didn't work out. We were both so happy that you and Jason found each other – I don't mean to be rude, you understand, but I've sometimes found him to be personally unpleasant, and I liked him so much better ever since he married you. But things happen for a reason, and I just wanted to call you and see how you were."_

"Uh…" Elizabeth forced herself down on the couch, and then she forced herself to come up with something mildly intelligible to say. After all, it wasn't everyday that an unemployed college student got a call from the Kate Howard, esteemed editor of Couture magazine and the national – and soon to be international – authority on fashion.

"I-I'm fine. How are you?"

_"I'm good," _Kate replied hurriedly, _"but I didn't call to talk about me. So you're in Boston now, are you?"_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm back in Boston. I just had to move away from Port Charles. After everything…"

_"I understand,"_ she replied honestly after a long pause stretched between them. _"Believe me, I completely understand. Divorce is never easy. I'm a child of divorce myself, and I'll be honest, sometimes just the fears and insecurities I've pulled from that situation are enough to make me doubt if even Trevor and I can make it work. We've loved each other for years, but that fear is always there. And if you and Jason couldn't make it work…"_

"It was different with me and Jason," Elizabeth felt compelled to explain. She had gotten to know Kate a little since they'd first met at her birthday party at the Greystone, and she had seen her with Trevor. If ever there was a woman madly in love with her fiance, and he her, it was Kate Howard and Trevor Lansing. It had been odd to see them together at first, given the age difference and especially when Trevor told her that he had been in the same undergraduate class as her father until Jeff went to medical school and Trevor to Harvard Law.

"You and Trevor are wonderful together, you really are. Jason and I…I think what happened was that we did it all too fast. Like you said, you and Trevor have been in love for years. Jason and I barely knew each other a week before we got married."

_"But that was made it so romantic,"_ Kate sighed on the other end. _"I saw you two at your birthday party, Elizabeth. And I saw you at the Christmas Party and at the Metrocourt on New Years' Eve. You glowed when you were together. I don't think I've ever seen Jason look at a woman like that, or smile that much in one night. So what if you didn't know each other all that long? That hardly matters when two people love each other."_

"It matters more than you think," Elizabeth replied wearily. She definitely did not want to be having this conversation, and with Kate Howard of all people. "We loved each other, yes, but in the end we couldn't figure out how to fit our lives together. And that tore us apart to the point that we only would have hurt each other if we stayed together. You and Trevor have years of history to build on, and you already know how you fit together. Our situations were completely different."

Another long pause, and finally Kate spoke. _"I suppose you're right. And I'm sorry for making you dredge all this up. Truly, it wasn't my intention. I just wanted to call you up and see how you were doing, and let you know that you were in my thoughts."_

A small, genuine smile tugged on her lips. "Thank you, Kate. That was very nice of you. I really do appreciate it."  
_  
"So you're going to get back to finishing your degree? Art History, right?"_

"Yeah, Art History. I'm going to start classes again in the fall."

_"And are you still going to work for that magazine – that, er, photo journal you were telling me about?"_

"Yeah. I've worked on it since my freshman year, just arranging all the spreads and figuring out which photos look best where, and it was something I've always enjoyed. So, yeah, I'm hopefully going to pick that up in the fall again."

_"And what are you planning to do until then?"_

"Honestly?" Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair and laughed. "I have no idea. I'm just trying to find a job right now."

_"Oh? Anything specific?"_

"There's a job opening at the Fine Arts Museum for a docent position. I think I'd be really good at that. I practically lived at the museum for my first two years at BU just because of all the projects and papers we had to do about historic Boston paintings, and I know that place and its works like the back of my hand. I'm just waiting to hear back from them."

_"Well, best of luck. You sound perfectly suited for that position and I hope you get it. And if you need a character reference, you should definitely ask Brenda. She always used to go on and on about how you were the most creative person she ever met. She misses you terribly, you know."_

Elizabeth troubled her lower lip. "Yeah…"

_"I think it just becomes difficult for her sometimes, to be the only woman in that sausage festival. Pardon the expression."_

"Listen, about Brenda…"

_"Yes?"_

"I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't mention that we spoke."

There was a pause on the other end. _"Is it within my right to ask why?"_

"I've been trying to cut my ties with them," Elizabeth confessed. "Jason is Sonny's best friend in the whole world, and he's like a brother to Brenda. I don't ever want them to feel like they're in an awkward spot because of me, so I think it's best if I just leave them alone."

Another pause. _"And is it working?"_

"It's a little harder than I thought it would be."

Kate let out a little chuckle. _"Very well, Elizabeth. If you don't want me to say anything, you don't have to worry. I won't. It was very nice speaking to you again."_

"You, too, Kate."

_"And I hope you won't mind if I take the liberty of calling you again next week? I'd love to know if you got the position or not."_

She had to laugh at the woman's manners. "Sure, sure. Tell you what, I'll give you a ring once I know something."

_"Even better! I apologize for cutting this off abruptly, but I really have to be going. We're expecting Sophia here for a photoshoot, and she should be arriving any minute now with Roman. Oh! I'd better make sure our staff baby-sitters are on hand."_

Elizabeth frowned. "Sophia?"

_"Coppola. She has a new movie coming out, and her agency is splitting the cost of the shoot with us. That's how we line up most of our highest-profile spreads. The cost to secure those celebrities, even for a day, even if you're personally friends with them, is almost prohibitive."_

"Ah. Right. Well, I won't keep you. Talk to you later, Kate."

_"Goodbye, Elizabeth. Do keep in touch."_

"I will."

And maybe, just maybe, she thought as she dropped the phone back on the cradle, that was one promise she wouldn't mind keeping at all.

--------------------------------

"Uncle Jason!"

Michael crashed into his legs as soon as he stepped off the elevator and wrapped his arms around Jason's waist. "You're back!"

"Hey, bud," he smiled, stooping to pick the boy up. "I missed you."

"Missed you, too," the little boy replied. "How was Las Vegas?"

"It was good. Hot. I brought you a present. It's in the car – Max is bringing it up in a bit. So what's new with you?"

"We went to the zoo today," he announced. "Mom came, too. Miss Clarke asked her to chaperone. I got to see the monkeys and the zebras and the lions, too. They were sleeping, though, but we got to come back when they were feeding them. It was _so _gross!"

Jason smiled and brushed the boy's hair out of his face. He had no idea why Brenda always let it get so long before she took him in for a cut. "Sounds like you had fun. Your dad home yet?"

Michael shook his head. "No. Momma and I were waiting for him. He said he'd be home by seven o'clock. I was working on my homework."

"Yeah?" He jiggled him gently in his arms. "What do you have for homework?"

"We have to draw a picture of our favorite part of the zoo. Mom wants me to draw the zebras in the field but I'm gonna draw when they fed the lions and they got blood all over their faces. I think she hid my red crayon, though. I have to go find it 'cause it's not in the box."

It sounded like something Brenda would do. Jason gently set Michael back on his feet and straightened to his full height. "Okay, tell you what. You go finish your homework and when your dad gets home, we'll all eat dinner. And I'll bring over your present. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal!"

"Good man," he replied, tousling the boy's hair before Michael whirled around and raced back inside. "See you then."

He could hear Brenda on the phone with someone – probably Lois or Kate or Chloe; they were practically the only female friends she had – so he didn't bother to step in and say hi. She'd see him in two hours for dinner, anyway. So he turned around and entered his own dark, empty penthouse.

He tossed the keys onto the table without a second thought and stripped off his jacket, dropping it onto the back of his desk chair. His answering machine was beeping – probably Emily, one of the rare individuals that actually called his home phone – and he played the quick message before turning the thing off.

There was nothing in the fridge, but he wasn't particularly hungry. There wasn't much to drink, either. After Elizabeth had moved back to Boston, Spinelli sneaked in one day and cleaned up his entire wet bar. Probably poured it all down the drain or went on a bender with Stan and Milo. And every time he tried to replenish the liquor, it would just be stolen again.

So he poured himself a glass of water and wandered over to the hall closet. First things first: he pulled his gun out of his jeans, unloaded it, and locked all parts safely away in the box he kept on the high shelf. That done, he replaced the box and pulled out an old hatbox of Brenda's.

Inside was her yellow afghan.

He kept it hidden in the closet because he didn't want Max or Milo to see that he still had it. There was a small chance that Elizabeth had called them to ask if she had left her blanket behind, and if they saw it laying around, those idiots might actually want to return it to her.

No, the yellow afghan stayed with him.

After he had called Diane to draw up the papers and pay Elizabeth $10,000 in alimony each month – he had wanted to give her more so that she'd have the freedom to travel and really explore her art, but he thought it would make her uncomfortable – he had somehow managed to pull himself out of bed and come downstairs. There, he had picked up her afghan from its permanent spot on his couch and stashed it in the hatbox in his closet. She had obviously forgotten it when she sneaked into his penthouse in the middle of the day once with Max to sweep it of all her stuff.

And it was still with him. For reasons he was no where near comfortable deciphering, much less divulging, Jason liked seeing it sitting rumpled on the end of his couch, as if Elizabeth had just awoken from a cat nap and was off in the kitchen looking for something to eat.

Now, he picked up his water glass – sober for three weeks now, excepting the occasional drink he had to have at business meetings – and the afghan and ambled over to the couch without turning on the lights. He sat down slowly, listening to the creaking of his bones, and removed his shoes. Leaving them on the floor, he stretched his legs onto the coffee table and tossed the afghan onto the opposite end of the couch.

And like every other night after dinner, that was how he remained until sleep finally found him.


	17. All Roads

**16**

_Two months after D-Day…Divorce Day, that is…_

She couldn't do it.

She couldn't stay here anymore.

The whole time she was married to Jason Morgan, she was planning her escape. Well, no, that probably wasn't the right thing to say; it wasn't as if she was up all night carving a tunnel from her closet with a spoon under the cover of darkness. But she had been dreaming about her escape, wishfully thinking about it.

She would run back to Boston the first chance she got, she always thought. When she had run away before, she stopped for a few days in New York only to throw them off the trail so that she could contact a friend of hers in Boston and stay at her place. Jason would probably search the BU campus for her and most likely wouldn't go all the way out to the suburbs. Unfortunately, she hadn't even been able to make it to the Massachusetts state border before her husband – ex-husband, ex-husband – caught up with her.

But now that she was finally back in her old stomping ground…she knew she couldn't stay.

She had only been back on the campus of Boston University twice so far, and had run away terrified both times. She couldn't cross the quad or sit in the library or even visit the chapel without having horrible flashbacks of her kidnapping…and then horrible flashbacks of everything that happened afterward. 

Manny Ruiz and Jason Morgan had both tainted the city for her, the place she considered more of a home than even her own hometown in Colorado. She couldn't stay on the campus for more than a few minutes at a time without running away, and just the thought of returning to classes there in the fall was sometimes enough to make her vomit.

There was no way she could stay on in Boston.

No matter how much she loved all of her friends here, no matter how much she loved the university and all her classes, no matter how much she loved her job at the Fine Arts Museum talking about Van Gogh every day to second grade classes, she knew she couldn't do it.

She had run away from Port Charles, and now Elizabeth had no choice but to run away from Boston as well.

Her new destination?

Manhattan.

----------------------

Jason let himself into Sonny's office and hung his coat on the stand before wearily taking his seat. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Sonny eyed him over the file he held. "I wanted to talk about a new business venture. You alright? You look a little out of it."

"I'm fine," he replied, leaning back in his seat. "Talk."

"There's a new family branching out in the States," Sonny started, pushing the file forward. "Or, actually, an old family."

"The Zaccharas?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I thought Anthony ran his interests from Rome," Jason frowned. "I mean, I know he has holdings in Madrid, too, but he's never felt the need to come to the US before. What does he want? Our routes? The piers?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Sonny assured him. "Anthony's still in Rome. He has no plans to leave."

Jason scowled. He hated how Sonny beat around the bush sometimes. It was particularly intolerable when it was regarding the business. "Then what the hell are we talking about?"

"It's his son, Johnny," he explained. "He just graduated from Oxford and now he's moving to New York City. Turns out that when Calabrese died last year, he transferred his corporation and his real estate holdings to the Zacchara family. He used to go to school with Anthony's brother Ernesto, God rest his soul."

Jason nodded in respect. "So now Johnny's running everything?"

"He's going to try to," Sonny shrugged. "He's got the credentials for it, education-wise, but he's green."

"Twenty-two," Jason murmured, glancing down at the file. "Just a kid."

Same age as his wife. _Ex-wife, ex-wife_, he had to remind himself.

"Right. Which is why Anthony contacted us and asked us to help get Johnny settled and provide him with any help he needs."

"What's in it for us?"

"We get a cut of Johnny's profits, and the Zacchara family will back us up in our ventures out in Vegas," Sonny answered. "And I've spoken to him over the phone once. He seems like a nice enough kid. Funnier than his dad. Not at all uptight. I thought he'd have this chip on his shoulder, be one of those typical high-talking rich European brats, but he's pretty down-to-earth. It shouldn't be all that bad."

Jason was nodding slowly. "And it shouldn't be hard, either. We know how Calabrese ran his operations."

"That's why Anthony wanted us." Sonny leaned back in his seat and tented his fingers over his lap. "We were on better terms with Calabrese than any of the other Family heads. Not that I blame them. He was the meanest, most ruthless son of a bitch I ever met. But putting up with him paid off."

"And by this time next year, we'd have the resources and man power to move ahead with Vegas," Jason reasoned. "No, not a bad deal at all. What do we have to do?"

"Now? You mean, immediately?" Sonny paused when Jason nodded, trying to find the right words. "Well, first, we just wait for the kid to get settled in. In about a month or two, when he's ready to announce himself, we'll start with him. We'll just be mentoring Johnny and working with his lawyers to make sure the acquisitions are carried out properly. And then we'd be sticking around with him, helping him if he runs into snags, making sure he meets and greets the right people, that sort of thing."

Jason was still nodding as he skimmed over the file. "Yeah."

Sonny eyed his best friend carefully. "It'll involve a lot of travel to the city. Back and forth, back and forth."

"I can do it."

"I thought you could." 

It was just as he'd suspected. Jason had been running himself ragged these past two months, and Sonny had naturally been the first to notice. Whenever there was something to be done, Jason wanted to do it. If they had to meet with clients, if they had to track down an associate and exact payment, if they had to meet with the lawyers or file permits or fly out to the West Coast at two in the morning, Jason always volunteered to do it.

Sonny and Brenda suspected that he needed something to take his mind off of his life. Spinelli had been on to something when he said that Jason was lonely. He had been happy enough with Sam, it was true, but their relationship was different. He didn't count on her to be home when he was or anything like that. It was like they were roommates that slept together and eventually planned on making it legal. With Elizabeth, it was different. Jason thought of her as his wife first and foremost, even if just in name. And now that she was gone and his home was empty, it most likely reminded him of how alone he was and how likely he was to stay that way.

So that was why Sonny tried to help whenever he could. Jason never took vacations. Unlike Brenda and Michael, he found no pleasure in soaking up the sun on the island. He never asked for time off specifically – he usually just left for a couple days on his bike when things got to be too much – and in fact, he never really asked for anything.

So Sonny began to make things up. Even if the smallest crisis popped up in Vegas, something that could be handled with a few phone calls, he'd tell his pilot to ready the jet and ask Jason to fly out. He'd take their luxurious plane, he'd have dinner at the casino with a couple of the high-rollers, and he'd stay at a five-star hotel and come home in a couple days with a nice tan. It was the best way Sonny Corinthos knew how to help his best friend.

And this situation with the Zacchara family was just pure luck. Jason loved New York City – the vibe, the energy, their friends and associates and history there – and Sonny knew he wouldn't mind flying down there. He'd hang out with a kid that he'd probably get along great with, and he'd have some new work to do. It'd keep his life interesting.

"Did Johnny already get here?"

Sonny nodded. "Yeah. Flew in two nights ago and moved into the apartment buildings Calabrese owned. Took the master penthouse on the top floor. He's there now."

"Where, exactly?"

"Manhattan."


	18. Haven't Thought Of You Lately

**17**

_Three months after D-Day…Divorce Day, that is…_

"Hello, dear," Elton Herbert smiled, taking a seat across from Elizabeth in the swanky lunch café right across the street from _Couture Magazine's_ headquarters. "Ouch. Don't do that, Cinnabon, you'll get scowly lines. The Devil's tick marks. Or Joan Rivers's. Some days, I can't tell the difference."

She managed a smile for her boss and resumed picking at her hamburger. Or rather, the closest thing to hamburger that the café had. "Hey, Elton. Actually taking a lunch break today?"

"You know it," he replied, eagerly unwrapping his tuna wrap sans mayo and made with organic yogurt, thank God. "I was buried under paperwork all morning and this afternoon we've got J to the HelLo, three years ago, coming in for a shoot, so you _know _that will just be a hot orange nightmare on wheels, and I'm going to take my breaks where I can get them. I'd tell you that you could skip the shoot if you didn't want your head bitten off and replaced with those white lilies she likes so much that, unlike love, do cost a thing, but then Katie would kill me because, after all, that's how we earn our checks.

"And what about you? What's _this _about?" he asked, waving his hand in front of her face and just barely missing her nose. "I hate to see you looking so blue, Cinnabon, even if it does go so great with your eyes. And that skin._ Oh_, that skin! I just want to put a dollop of whipped cream on your head and serve you over crumb cake."

She had no idea what that meant, but she thought it might be a compliment. "I'm all right, Elton, really. Want a fry?"

"Oh, God, no," he shuddered, clenching his eyes shut until she withdrew the offending deep-fried potato stick. "You sure don't look all right. In fact, you looked downright scowly when I walked in. And what are you doing eating alone? Do you always eat alone?"

"I used to eat with Kate for the past three weeks," she answered. During those three weeks, right after she had moved from Boston, she had been Kate Howard's personal assistant. Kate knew a remarkable lot about Elizabeth's life and her past marriage, including now the fact that it was a sham, and understood Elizabeth's fears and flashbacks. So when Elizabeth began to actually voice those fears and flashbacks, Kate had been the first to suggest a change.

Not just any change, either, but a position with _Couture _magazine.

Elizabeth had been hesitant at first, recognizing the offer as the cronyism it was, but Kate had been persistent and persuasive. After all, Elizabeth clearly had a keen eye for fashion, no matter who she learned it from. She was good with pictures and spacing and knew just how to make everything fit right, and what else did her new position at _Couture _require?

But at Elizabeth's insistence, Kate had agreed to give her a trial run. For her first three weeks in Manhattan, she had stuck by the editor's side as if glued there. She took copious notes and learned all that she could, and had very recently made the transition to her new position as Junior Visual Supervisor, reporting to Senior Visual Supervisor Elton Herbert.

Basically, all that meant was that she was responsible for planning and organizing photo shoots, being there on hand should problems arise, and making absolutely sure that the pictures were developed in timely fashion and that the right shots were selected for the spread. After she made her initial layouts, they would go to Elton who would sign off on them before sending them over to general layout so that the designers, prices, and photo credits could be added in the margin along with any other quotes culled from the interview that the editors felt should be highlighted on the images themselves.

All in all, it was the best job a girl like her could have hoped for. And Kate had even hinted that Couture might be willing to put her through school if she should decide to sign the extended contract.

"Lunch with Katie? Let me guess – you walked into this café every day and inhaled the scents," Elton joked. "And for dessert, ice chips."

Elizabeth had to laugh at that. "I ordered pizza once directly to her office. I thought she was going to faint. Got her to eat one slice, though, so it was a pretty good day."

"Oh, I remember that day," he replied around a mouthful of tuna. "She refused the elevator and walked up and down the stairs all day. I thought the doorman was going to poop a cow. Always the hijinks with Katie. So how come you aren't eating with any of your underlings? I always eat with underlings. Hence," he added, gesturing across the table to her.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I haven't really gotten to know any of the others that well. Besides you and Kate, I mean. I stuck real close to Kate for my first three weeks here, and I think that put some people off."

"Don't worry, they're all too afraid of her to take you to task for it. God, I remember when one of our gowns on loan from Oscar de la Renta went missing. Ugh. Katie went Ka-boom that day, for certainly."

"That was the day I spent hiding in the male model Old New York Memories shoot."

"Nice."

"I thought you'd think so." 

They continued to eat in silence for a few minutes after that, but Elizabeth's expression remained troubled. "Elton?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think it's weird that I haven't made very many friends since I joined _Couture_? Like, do you think there's something…off-putting about me?"

"No, no, Cinnabon, not at all," he assured her. "Well, unless you count the fact that you have a bagel and or cinnabon for breakfast every day. Eating can be very off-putting at _Couture_. Used to be like a Middle Eastern country – you could get stoned for showing your scones."

Elizabeth laughed out loud at that, drawing a few irritated looks from the other patrons at Sam & Ella's Café. Elton was just outrageous sometimes. "Thanks for the tip. It's a little late, though."

"Other than that, though, you've yet to commit any egregious offense," he shrugged. "And for the record, darling? No one makes friends at Couture. It simply cannot be done. You just show up every day and kiss the ass of everyone you hate, then you get an ulcer and by that time you've either found a job with another magazine with the entirely same atmosphere, or Katie poured cyanide in your coffee and killed you for daring to suggest that we bring fishnets back. Ugh, perish the thought. I'll have to take an extra Tums just for having it."

"Charming."

He smiled warmly at her and popped an olive into his mouth. "Don't let it get to you, Cinnabon. I'm not exactly Mr. Congeniality, either. But it's not all bad; we have a great job and we love what we do. And it's exciting to put out our magazine and hob-nob with the celebrities. As for the rest of it, who gives a fiddle? Look, you have me and I have you and we both have nothing. There's a better spin on in, don't you think?"

"I guess."

"Oh, come on," he burst out good-naturedly, attracting more irritated looks. "What's this really about?"

She shrugged lamely. "I don't know. I guess I just can't get past the thought of how some of those people look at me and talk to me. They think that I was hired just because I was friends with Kate."

"But, darling, you _were _hired just because you were friends with Kate."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"But it's true," Elton pointed out.

"I know, but I was hoping…"

"Hoping what? That they'd accept you anyway?" He wiped his hands meticulously on his napkin. "They will once you show them what you're capable of. And you have plenty of time to do that, Cinnabon. You're just getting started in your career at _Couture_. You have plenty of time to dazzle everyone and make your mark. Don't worry so much about it."

"I worry," she admitted. "It's what I do. For the last year, it feels like that's all I've known how to do. Can I ask you something, Elton?"

"If it's my age or weight, I'm sorry, dear, but a lady never tells and neither do I. Feel free to ask me what sweetener I use, though."

"How come you don't resent me because I got this job the good old fashioned crony way?"

He looked at her as if she'd gone daft. "Please tell me you're kidding, Cinnabon. Katie's cronyism is my biggest professional friend. It's the reason I got started at _Couture_. I was originally a wedding planner, did you know that? I was planning her sister Evie's wedding. Lovely girl, that Evie. Popped out three kids by now, you know. Katie and I got to chatting and she offered me a job. And her offering you the job was the reason I got promoted. So it all worked out splendidly as far as I'm concerned. Now I can afford a shiny new summer home on Cape Cod, where every night is margarita night!"

"You had my job before?"

"Oh, no, I was just the Directing Visual Supervisor," he replied. "When you became Junior, I became Senior. Almost as if I created you. In my image. As if there was 'begatting' going on. Very Old Testament of us, don't you think?"

"Yeah."

"Don't stress about it so much," Elton advised. "You've got plenty of time to show everyone what you can really do. And who cares about those girls? Pill-popping, over-moussed, anorexic drama queens with fake accents, all of them. I've been checking out your work, dear, and I'm very impressed. You haven't a thing to worry about. Even if people think you got the job just because you knew Kate, they'll soon see you're up to snuff regardless."

That earned him a genuine half-smile. "Thanks, Elton."

"Not at all, Cinnabon. However, now I must ask you for a little something seeing as how I've readily supplied the moral support. Tit for tit."

"That is _not _the expression."

"No, but I did enjoy _your _expression when I said _that _expression," he winked.

"What do you want?"

He pushed his plate and his bottle of SEI water aside and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Okay, I've only heard this from the busy bodies in the break room – word on the street, you know how that goes – and I'm _dying _for some validation here. Is it true that you were married to Jason Morgan of Corinthos-Morgan Enterprises and _the _most well-dressed crime syndicate this side of Chicago and that you two divorced because the guilt that he was responsible for your kidnapping ate away at him and he couldn't deal with it any longer?"

She must have gaped at him for a solid minute before the excited curiosity in Elton's eyes dimmed and he slowly withdrew.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Cinnabon, I don't know what I was thinking, asking you that. We'll call that your 'age and weight,' and stick to sweeteners from now on. Oh, goodness and light, I must have offended you awfully."

"No, no, Elton, don't worry, you didn't," she assured him quietly, her expression once again growing troubled. "You couldn't."

It was the truth, really. Elton Herbert was the kindest, most considerate soul she'd met at _Couture_, and she considered herself lucky that he'd taken such a liking to her. The man didn't have a malicious bone in his body, and was discreet in all things he did. At the magazine, you kind of had to be.

"You just caught me off guard, that's all," she managed with a weary smile. "So, tell me, does everyone at Couture know that I was married?"

"Yes," he answered without the slightest hesitation. "But is it true that you were really married to _Jason Morgan_? A lot of people think you were just married to some guy that worked for Jason Morgan. So what's the fat and thin of it?"

"I married Jason in the fall." A sad smile touched her lips and Elizabeth averted her gaze slightly and looked out the window at the rest of New York, which was presently receiving just the prettiest dusting of snow. "I met him through his nephew."

"Men always use the little nippers to pick up women," Elton replied knowingly. "Tried and true trick of the trade, dear. Puppies work just as well. Plants, however, don't have nearly as high a success rating, although I hear they used to work wonderfully for Elizabeth Taylor. She had a fern fetish, I think. I could be mixing her up with Liza Minelli. It's easy to do so – they look to be about the same age, anyway. Certainly have the same chalky glow about them."

"Michael was a wonderful boy," she continued absently, her smile growing. "Just the best kid ever."

"Was?" Elton parroted. "Uh-ohs."

"No, no, I don't mean it like that," Elizabeth corrected hastily. "God, no. No, no. Michael's alive. It's just that I-I don't talk to him much anymore. Haven't spoken to him in about three months, to tell you the truth."

"Why not? It sounds like you liked the little nipper. We should always talk to people we like – especially since we spend so much of our lives talking to people we want to kill over and over again."

"It's just easier this way. For everyone involved." She picked at the lemon wedge perched on the rim of her glass. "I keep in touch with his mom, though. Well, not personally. More like through Kate."

"Katie's your go-between? Your liaison?"

"Don't use that word."

Elton gave her an assessing look. "Ah, so you have word-hates, too, eh? Personally, I hate the word acquiesce. Just an awful mess of letters, really. I never utter it unless I am making a point about how much I hate it. Anyway, so Katie's keeping the lines open for you?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "At first I didn't want her to. Like, when I first started talking to her and getting to know her better. I thought it would just be easier. But Michael's mom became like a sister to me, and it was really hard to pretend like she didn't exist, so when Kate begged me to let her tell her that she talked to me and that I was doing good, I said okay."

"And this is the incomparable Miss Brenda Barrett, isn't it?" Elton rolled his eyes and clapped his hands, earning even more irritated looks. "_Oh_, I could go on and on about that woman. The black Ferragamo she wore to Katie's New Years Eve party? To _die _for! And don't even get me started on that husband of hers. I saw his three and a half Windsor knot and nearly passed out in the shrimp – I didn't even know you could pull off a three and a half, and I'm in the business!"

"Sonny and Brenda," Elizabeth nodded with a smile. "They're always dressed to the nines when they go out."

"I don't know why I didn't see you and your hubby d'jour there," he mused. "If I had, we wouldn't have to have this conversation. Instead, we would have talked about whatever it was you wore that night."

"Jason and I didn't stay long. And I was wearing sapphire blue Dior from his spring line."

"Oh?" Elton arched a perfectly tweezed brow. "Skipped out to get lucky? You better not have ruined that divine Dior creation in any manner or I'll have to despise you on principle."

"I got sick and spent the rest of the night throwing up."

He wrinkled his nose. "Ouchers."

"Pretty much," she sighed.

"So what was it like being married to Mister Jason, hm? Inquiring minds need to know, dear."

She troubled her lower lip and searched for the right words. "It was up and down, a lot of it. In the end, it just didn't work out."

"…So the whole his-guilt-ate-him-away wasn't true?"

"Afraid not," Elizabeth shrugged, offering him a sympathetic look. "Would have made a good story, though. You can still pretend it's true, if you like. If that'll make you feel better."

"Do you know, I think I will," Elton replied happily. "So, tell, Cinnabon. Why'd you get divorced, then?"

"It just didn't work out. We got married too fast and rushed everything, and it caught up to us."

"…That's not nearly as romantic as a pretty girl like you deserves," he pouted.

She had to laugh at that. "Sorry, Elton, but it's all I've got. No stories of champagne and flowers and lassoing the moon here. Just two people…that went about it all the wrong way."

"Are you happier now that you're not with him?" Serious gray eyes probed hers. "Truly?"

"I'm getting there," she finally replied with a small smile. "I am."

"Well, that's good," Elton sighed with relief. "And you will get there, dear, trust me. Now, you ready to get back? You know how Jenny from the Block hates to be kept waiting. I just hope our studio's set at 68 Fahrenheit, or she's going to murder some poor staffer. Gosh, I hope it's not one of mine."

"Yeah." Elizabeth got up and grabbed her purse, accepting his hand when he offered it to her. "And tell you what, if we make it out of there in one piece, I'll buy you a drink."

"Mm, nectarini, I can almost taste you now."

"I bet that's what you say to _all _the girls."

Jason hurried down the stairs to the main level of his penthouse with his black duffel bag in hand. He dropped it on the floor and quickly opened the closet door, reaching for his gun box. His weapon was already on his person, but he'd forgotten to load up some extra ammunition. He grabbed what he needed, locked the box, and securely packed the rest of it away in a concealed side pocket in his bag.

In about an hour, he'd be in his SUV heading down to Manhattan for his first official meeting with Johnny Zacchara. Unbeknownst to the boy, Jason had already been down to the city several times on general scouting missions. It was the first rule of the game: know your associates. He had gone down to the apartment buildings Johnny obtained from Calabrese and scouted out the location. He even walked into Johnny's penthouse with the hotel staff, unnoticed, and took a look around. He saw Johnny on the phone in the bedroom, and from the sound of it he was talking to his sister about her upcoming due date and the imminent arrival of his niece.

He and Johnny had yet to meet formally face to face, though. They had spoken on the phone often. Johnny had fallen ill shortly after his arrival in the States and spent two weeks recovering and taking it easy on doctors' orders. He had been too embarrassed to admit to Sonny and Jason that he'd succumbed to a combination of jet lag and a stomach virus, and so they had to find out from Anthony that the boy was under the weather.

After that, he had made some renovations to his penthouse. The top floor housed the master suites, two of them in total, and Johnny had the wall knocked down to combine the two apartments. He brought in equipment for his entertainment room, installed shelves for his massive library, built a conference room, set up a private gym, and made many more improvements.

And finally, today was the day that Jason would drive down and meet the boy. They'd presumably have dinner together and go for drinks – word had it that Johnny had designed and set up an incredible in-house bar – and then the next morning they'd get to work. Before long, Jason planned to take Spinelli down with him so that Johnny could meet him, too. They were about the same age and it would do Spinelli good to hang out with the boy.

He had overheard a conversation between Max and Ritchie and knew that Johnny wasn't the only new arrival in Manhattan. Elizabeth was there as well.

Jason tried to stay out of her life as much as he could. That had been his promise since the day she left. He had an undercover guard on her, tailing her and just sticking around to make sure no one caused her any problems. So far, no one had. The times were good now, better than they had been in a longer time, and would most likely get better once it became common knowledge that he and Sonny were in a partnership with the Zacchara family. No one crossed Anthony and his friends and lived to tell about it. Besides, his enemies probably figured that if Jason had divorced his wife and cut all ties with her so completely, she wasn't worth using as a pawn.

He told Max and Ritchie to stay in contact with the assigned guard and stay up to speed on the events of Elizabeth's life. It was their job to know that she was safe, that she was provided for financially, and that she wasn't involved in anything questionable in any way. But he also asked that they spare him the details. Not knowing what she was doing and where she was and how she liked it would make his thoughts of her less frequent, his daydreams of her less vivid, until they all faded away into obscurity.

The problem was that everything reminded him of her. Every time he was in Manhattan, allegedly to scope out Johnny's new neighborhood and the kid himself, he still poked his head up every time someone entered the café where he was grabbing a quick bite to eat with Johnny, absently hoping that he'd see her.

It would be like something out of a movie: seeing her in a fancy restaurant or in an upscale department store or just on the street corner sipping one of those damn pumpkin lattes she loved so much. Entirely fortuitous, entirely up to chance. Kismet. Fate, even. Not her fault and not his, just a chance meeting.

But he never saw her. Not a single time. He wasn't even sure of where she was, precisely, just that she was in Manhattan working somewhere. Somewhere could have been anywhere: it could have been the fancy law offices on the twentieth floor of one of the resident skyscrapers, or the hot dog cart on the corner. Manhattan was a big city, and Elizabeth was just a small woman. One small woman that was never far from his thoughts. 

Manhattan had become just like Port Charles, where Kelly's and the Greystone and Harborview and the docks all reminded him of her, and Jason must have loved to torture himself because he hang onto a little shred of hope every single time he drove down. It was futile, he knew it, but part of him just couldn't help it.

Tonight would be different. Tonight he'd have something else to occupy his attention. Johnny Zacchara was a good kid. He was practical, he was sharp, and he didn't talk too much. All were signs of someone that would go far in their world. And with Jason's help, he would probably go even farther. In any event, Jason was looking forward to finding out. His tutelage of Johnny would be just the distraction he needed to keep from turning into a distracted, vaguely sentimental mess every time he visited the city.

He had just enough time to grab a quick meal before leaving, maybe a little something extra for the road, too. Spinelli had recently turned him onto barbequed potato chips, much to Jason's own chagrin, to say nothing of Sonny's, and those would be a good option.

He had just picked up his bag and was on his way out when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

"Morgan."

_"Hey, Jason, it's Johnny."_

He frowned and switched the phone to his other ear. "What do you need?"

_"Actually…something's come up."_

Ah. Of course. "Your sister?"

_"She's having the baby. Right now, she's having the baby, a whole week early. I just got the call that she went into labor twenty minutes ago."_

"And you're on your way to see her."

_"Got a driver ready to take me to Boston waiting outside," the boy confirmed. "I know we were supposed to meet tonight, but would it be-"_

"It's fine," Jason assured him. And really, it was. He had been in a meeting with the Five Family Heads when Brenda first went into labor, and he'd cut it short and raced off to General Hospital to wait with his best friend. If anyone understood the situation, it was he. "You should be with your family."

_"Thanks, Jason. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. All of it. And again, I apologize."_

"It's okay," he repeated. "Don't worry about it. Business can wait, we can meet another time. It's no big deal."

_"Thanks, Jason. I'll be in touch."_

"Take your time. And give my best wishes to Claudia. Sonny's, too."

_"I will."_

And with that, Johnny hung up. Jason sighed and snapped his phone shut, then looked down at his duffel bag. Well, that was a waste.

He kicked it inside the closet and reshelved his gun and clip, making sure to safely lock them away as he always did. There went his plans for the night, which meant he'd have to come up with something else to do. Coming up with things to do was not Jason's forte. When he and Elizabeth were still married, she was the one that always wanted to do things, and he was the one that could never really come up with anything.

It was Saturday night, which meant that Sonny and Brenda were out. Since things were normally pretty hectic for the couple, they scheduled at least one night a week where they could both get away and spend some time together. Usually, that consisted of dinner and dancing. And while he had been married to Elizabeth, they had also gone out to dinner and dancing with Sonny and Brenda just to keep up appearances. 

Michael, the next on his list, was already fast asleep or at the very least pretending to be while he read his Superman comics by the light of a flashlight under the covers. Spinelli was on a date with Georgie and would probably come home late and sneak in quietly so Sonny and Brenda couldn't bust him. The guards were off the list because Jason didn't like spending much time with them anymore. They all reminded him of Elizabeth. Mainly, it was that they had, for the most part, been happier and in better spirits when Elizabeth lived at Harborview. Seeing them now, all formal and about the business, depressed the hell out of him.

So Jason headed over to his wet bar and opened a bottle of mineral water. Brenda had damn near fainted and cracked her head on the linoleum that one time she caught him drinking tap water, and had ordered a lifetime supply of that mineral crap to be delivered regularly to Harborview. Now, it was about all he drank except at business functions.

Glass in hand, he ambled back over to the couch and set it down on the end table. His duffel bag still sat in the open closet and Jason stooped over it, rummaging through the tightly packed contents until he found what he was looking for and pulled it out. A soft, gently fraying yellow afghan.

He held it in his hand and just stared at it for a long moment, then slowly stood and walked back over to the couch. He took off his boots, leaving them there on the floor, and sat down at one end. He brought the blanket to his face and inhaled the scent.

And then he leaned back and tossed the afghan to the other side of the couch, and that was how he remained for the rest of the night.


	19. Formidable

**18**

_Four months after D-Day…Divorce Day, that is…_

"All right, people, no more lazing about," Kate Howard announced as she strode into _Couture Magazine_ headquarters with Elton hard on her heels. "You – get me my coffee. You – hang these coats up. You – get to our florist and order a massive bouquet. Bring it to my office. You – get me a blank card for it. You – find me Elizabeth. I want to know what happened with the shoot yesterday!"

The staffers scattered instantly like ants underfoot as Kate stormed into her office. 

"Unbelievable," she muttered, slamming her file onto the desk. "That is the absolute last time I attend a party at Wyndemere. Nikolas Cassidine was not at all equipped to deal with emergencies and shouldn't be allowed to throw galas in the first place if he's going to be so ill-prepared."

"Well, to be fair, Katie, he couldn't have predicted the storm," Elton pointed out. "And I know it was horrible, being stuck on Spoon Island all night and then all day without any phones or electricity, but he did help us make the most of it. There was plenty of good food and even better liquor, and Wyndemere certainly had enough room to house all of us for the night. It was awful, yes, but it could have been a lot worse."

She scowled, clearly in no mood to cut the Prince any slack for the weather-related travesty. She, Trevor, and Elton had left Wyndemere at seven o'clock in the evening on the tail of a horrible storm in one of the emergency aircrafts supplied by the Coast Guard. After arriving at the Metrocourt to pick up luggage and check out, the three of them had taken the first flight back to New York City, back to civilization, and had just high-tailed it from the airport. Trevor had returned to his and Kate's apartment, but Kate and Elton had opted to return to _Couture_.

The problem was that they had missed an enormous, high-budget photo shoot while they were sitting around in Nikolas's many empty bedrooms, snacking on cold caviar at two-thirty in the morning.

"I knew it was a bad idea for both of us to be gone immediately before the shoot," she growled, swiping a persistent lock of hair back behind her ear. "We left Elizabeth alone to handle it – she was a fish out of water. And I was the only one that could have signed for our props."

She stomped her custom pumps on the floor. "Damn it all! You – where's Elizabeth? Why haven't you gotten her yet?"

"Ms. Webber's not in her office, Ms. Howard," the nervous staffer replied. "I was just on my way to look for her. I think she might be down in-"

"I don't care where she is unless that 'where' is my office," Kate snapped. "Go, go. Bring her to me."

"Easy, dear," Elton chided, offering her a mild antacid. "Clearly, that pretzel you got at the airport did not agree with you. Just sit down, take a load off, and try to relax. So we missed the shoot. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"But it was Katie Holmes," she groaned, covering her eyes with her hands as she all but collapsed into her chair. "Mrs. Tom Cruise, and we botched her photo shoot. We botched it entirely! She'll never do a shoot for the magazine again, and that means that Victoria Beckham will never do another cover for us, or appear at our parties. It's a horrible ripple effect!"

"Hey, Kate, Elton, oh, my gosh," came a voice from the door, and they both looked over to see Elizabeth standing there with a thick file in her hands. The brunette quickly stepped into the office, her eyes wide with relief and sympathy alike. "I'm so glad you're both okay. I heard about the horrible storm front that moved in from Canada, and I heard the emergency reports issued for the northern counties. I'm so glad you're both safe."

"Safe is a relative term," Kate groused, closing her eyes. "Elton. Ice pack."

"Right away, Katie," he replied, heading over to the wet bar to fill a sealed plastic baggie with ice wedges. "So, Cinnabon, I imagine today was a disaster in lime green. I'm so sorry we left you alone to fend for yourself. We were supposed to be back here at nine o'clock sharp with plenty of time to spare, but we're about twelve hours too late. And I imagine Mrs. Cruise will never want to speak to us again."

"Actually, the shoot didn't go that badly," Elizabeth shrugged, her fingers gripping the file a little tighter now. "Uh, actually, Katie was a pretty good sport about it. Oh, and I have the pictures with me right now – I know you guys like to look at the proofs before we develop the larger ones but I wasn't expecting you in until tomorrow so I figured I might as well. I have them all right here if you want to take a look…"

She trailed off, troubling her lip nervously. Both Kate and Elton were staring at her as if she'd sprouted a second head.

"Er…did I do something wrong?"

Ah, crap. She had. And now she was going to be fired. She was going to be fired from quite simply the most amazing job she'd ever had, all because she was a complete idiot and did something wrong.

"Elizabeth," Kate got out slowly, emphasizing each syllable. "Give that to me one more time. Slowly. Coherently."

"Uh…" Her dark eyes darted nervously from left to right and back again. "The shoot wasn't the way we planned it, but it went okay. We took tons of pictures, some really incredible ones, and Katie said she had fun. She and Suri went home around five and she sent you her best regards and hopes you two can do lunch before she flies back out to LA tomorrow night."

Elton and Kate were still staring at her.

Kate was the first to find her voice. "So…the shoot happened."

Elizabeth nodded, finding the moment almost unbearably awkward. "Uh, yeah."

"But it couldn't have!" she burst out. "Neither Elton nor I were here, and Elton's the Senior Supervisor!"

"Yes! Senior!" he felt the need to add.

"And there were props coming in – props from the Smithsonian!" Kate was getting flustered now and continuously swiping her hair back behind her ear, looking much like a horse swatting flies with its tail. "The director was bringing them over personally with the entourage – they were flying first-class! We paid for those props to fly first-class! Judy Garland's ruby slippers a-and the gloves from that Sylvester Stalone boxing movie, and – and I was the only one that could sign for them. And I wasn't here!"

"We weren't able to use the props," Elizabeth lamented, confirming Kate's suspicions. "I tried to convince them that I could be held responsible. I showed them my credentials and proved that I was who I said I was, and I offered to let the whole entourage into the studio during the shoot. Katie and I both tried."

Kate blanched and looked as if she might throw up. "You had Katie Holmes begging the director of the Smithsonian to let us have the props?"

"Well, she heard the commotion and came out of her dressing room," she winced. "I tried to tell her that everything was fine and she should just relax until we were set up, but she figured out what was going on and even offered to bring her personal bodyguards into the studio to guard the props as well, but…well, I guess there's a very specific and rigid protocol that has to be followed."

"There is," Kate groaned, burying her head in her hands. "They wouldn't have let you use those props if you were standing by a cherry tree with an axe. Oh, dear God."

Elton immediately pushed his little antacid dispenser her way.

"So we couldn't get the props, and that meant that we couldn't use the backdrops." Elizabeth fiddled with the edge of the file in her hands. "It was a shame, because I always thought those were our prettiest ones. The guys worked really hard. I guess we can recycle them and use them for next month's issue. Or maybe next year's issue, this month, to play it safe. Katie might think we were insulting her."

Kate appeared close to tears. "Just tell me how badly it went."

"Well, when we had to scrap the backdrop, Katie said that it didn't look like things were ready and maybe we should postpone," Elizabeth continued hesitantly. "But she's got a movie premiering in a little more than a month and pretty soon she'll be off promoting that and so she probably wouldn't have time, so I told her that it was fine and we were prepared for this."

Elton was fascinated by this retelling of events and was hanging on her every word. "So what did you do, Cinnabon? Tell, tell!"

"We cleared all the back drops out of the studio and just…" she fished around for the words that would likely get her into the least amount of trouble, "…used the studio."

Kate finally emerged from behind her hands. "Meaning?"

"Well, see for yourself." Elizabeth stepped forward and leafed through her file, pulling out her favorite shots. She fanned them out on the desk for both Elton and Kate to see.

One was of their subject wearing sliming black pants and a gray striped bustier with a little pink bow between her breasts. It was an extremely racy look for the demure young mother, but it popped right off the page with a mischievous and commanding air to it. She wore a sparkling brooch in her curled hair, which was piled atop her head, and appeared to be walking along the sidewall of the studio. Behind her, on the right side of the shot, was a cinderblock, and a grungy crack in the cement could clearly be seen on the other side in front of her.

"We embellished that a bit with charcoal powder," Elizabeth felt compelled to explain. "Just to make it look grittier."

The next one was of Ms. Holmes wearing a flirty silk peek-a-boo dress over tight black leggings. She wore the ankle-high leather boots that had been flown in from Italy for the shoot, and had dressed down the look with a coarse-looking baggy oatmeal-colored sweater. Her short bowl-cut had been blown out into sleek, shiny strands, and she was leaning against a black leather stool and facing the large windows in the studio that opened out to the overcast New York day.

Elizabeth's favorite one was of the young actress wearing a fancy black gown with an intricately beaded neckline, her hair up in a messy side bun and her neck, wrists, and fingers entirely bare except for her wedding ring. The gown had an excellent drape to it and pooled at her feet in a puddle of silk, standing out against the stained cloth tarp they'd lain out for the shoot. She stood almost in front of a tall, worn easel with a single sketchpad on it. The pad was flipped open to somewhere in the middle, and the charcoal drawing of a man with curly black hair dressed in a suit could clearly be seen.

Kate's lips parted in surprise. "Oh, my…This has to be our center. Our focus. It's perfect. Elton, look."

"I'm looking, dear, I'm looking," he replied, still poring over the picture. "Oh, that Gavin is a genius with the camera, I don't know how he does it. And you, Cinnabon – how did you do it?"

"It was hard," she admitted uneasily. "It was really, really hard to put it all together and there were so many times that I thought it would be awful. But Katie was getting into it so I knew I couldn't call it off, so I just…hoped for the best. And I think we got some really good shots out of it. This one's my favorite. It makes the perfect statement about her. About women. At least, the image of women that we try to put forth in _Couture_."

Kate was eyeing her with veiled admiration. "And what statement do you think this picture makes, Elizabeth?"

She considered the quietly asked question carefully. "I think the real power of it comes from the fact that she's wearing a designer gown, a gown that most normal women know costs more than their car. Easily. It's the kind of gown that the A-listers wear on the red carpet at the Academy Awards or something. But here, Katie's wearing it but she isn't presumptuous about it. Her hair isn't done up. It's messy and casual, like she's doing errands and running late. And she's only got on her wedding band. The simplicity of it really comes off the page.

"And the backdrop," she continued as Elton and Kate looked up at her. "Look at it. It's a sheet. And her dress is pooling on the dirty tarp underneath. She should be wearing glitzy heels with it, to pull the hem up a bit, but it's obvious she's barefoot because of the way it's pooling there. And the sketchpad in the back – it's just sitting there, and it's nothing remarkable, it's not even a good sketch, but it's there. And the message is that a woman _wears _clothes, and she wears fashion – she doesn't let it wear her. And a woman makes her own life – she doesn't let her life make her."

She shrugged uncomfortably when she realized that she'd been rambling. "At least, that's what I thought. That's what I was going for when I set it up."

A small smile, the truest one she'd ever seen, touched Kate Howard's lips. "You set this up."

"Yes."

"All of it."

"…Yes."

Without removing her gaze from Elizabeth's, Kate picked up the shot in question and held it up, pointing to the easel. "And you set that up."

"Yes."

Her smile grew just a little smug. "And you drew that picture."

Elizabeth's cheeks bloomed red. "…Yes."

A triumphant grin, and Kate laid the picture back down on her desk. "I knew it. I'd know Sonny Corinthos in charcoal anywhere."

"That's supposed to be Sonny Corinthos? Let me see." Elton made a grab for the picture and held it up. "Well, I'll be a turkey on pumpernickel, it is. You drew Sonny Corinthos!"

Elizabeth was still blushing. "Well, I do sketch a lot, and it was just something I had laying around so I brought it in. Was that okay?"

"Okay? It's wonderful. A touch of genius!" Kate beamed. "And I can bet you Ferragamo's fall line, if we're lucky to have first dibs on it, that when this issue hits stands, I'm going to get a shrieking call from Brenda about her husband being indirectly featured in an issue of _Couture_. Elizabeth, it all looks wonderful. I can't believe you pulled it off."

"I have tons of pictures if you and Elton want to make the selections yourselves," she offered, sliding the thick file forward. "I know I'm jumping the gun here, but if I had to pick on my own, I'd go with those three. The best lighting, the best angles, and the best feelings, in my opinion, can be found in those. Oh, and Katie wanted us to send her copies of the pictures from the shoot, too."

"I'll make absolutely sure to do that," her boss replied. "Elton, I think Elizabeth's worked hard enough for one day. Why don't you handle the layout and get it down to our boys in general layout by noon tomorrow?"

"Consider it done," he declared grandly. "How exciting! We didn't miss a beat! Well done, Cinnabon. You actually had full run of the joint for the day."

"Ugh, no thanks," Elizabeth groused good-naturedly. "Never again. Kate, I don't know how you do it. The people here are idiots."

"Yes, they are," she agreed sadly. "Did they make things difficult for you? They always terrorize poor Elton if I leave him in charge. It's why I try not to leave the magazine unless I absolutely have to."

"They were taking it easy all morning until I lost my temper and yelled at them," she admitted. "I really lost it. I told them that I wanted the spread up in less than half an hour, I wanted lunch ordered from Sam & Ella's for Katie's bodyguards, I wanted a custom gift basket put together for Suri and waiting for her in the play room, I wanted a thing of barley water just in case Katie didn't pack an extra bottle, and that if _anyone _mentioned _anything _about L. Ron Hubbard or Scientology before Katie left the building, I would kill them in their sleep. After that, they behaved…for the most part."

"Spoken like a true _Couture _head honcho," Elton smirked. "Our day here's just not complete without a murder threat."

"All right, Elizabeth, I'll handle everything else." Kate slipped the photos back into the file and gave her a beaming smile. "I'll make sure that we send Katie a nice arrangement for being such a good sport, and I'll set up lunch with her tomorrow. Elton will handle the layout and get it over for designer credit and prices, so why don't you head on home? And take tomorrow off, get some rest."

"Sounds great," Elizabeth replied. "Yeah, sure, I'd love to. Okay, well, I'm just going to get you the rest of the stuff from the shoot and then I'm out."

"I'll walk you," Elton offered, smoothly picking up the file from Kate's desk and slipping his arm into hers. As they walked out of their editor's office, her friend angled his head and gave her just the slightest nudge. "Looks like you're making your mark after all, Cinnabon."

It was the first meeting with the Families that Jason had attended since his divorce. Previously, they had gotten away with only Sonny being in attendance so long as Spinelli went with. Tonight, however, they couldn't put it off any longer. Jason had to make a personal appearance if he was to let the other Families know of his partnership with the Zacchara family and that he would be in Manhattan for quite the foreseeable future.

He poured himself a glass of scotch, his jaw set tense and hard, and waited for the murmuring among the other men to die down. He passed the bottle to Sonny, bypassing Spinelli entirely, but left his glass untouched on the tabletop. They were presently waiting for Don Salvatore, who had called from the car and said that there had been an emergency at home and that he was running late.

They didn't have to wait too long, however, which was good because the other men present kept sending smug looks Jason's way, because not five minutes later Salvatore came walking in with his mini-entourage consisting of his enforcer, his lawyer, and his son, the successor to his organization. The men all filed down the length of the conference table to their seats, exchanging quick greetings with the others as they did so.

Jason stood when Salvatore approached and shook his hand, mildly surprised when the older man pulled him just a little closer. 

"I heard about your divorce and I'm terribly sorry," he murmured in what they both hoped was a discreet manner. "Sometimes these things work out, sometimes they don't. I had hoped in your case that they would, and I regret that it happened otherwise."

Jason nodded silently and stood until Salvatore had taken his seat directly to his right. Then he slid his own chair out and sat down again, waiting for Don Sandoval to call the meeting to order.

They discussed the bigger issues first and went down the line of families, and finally it was Sonny's turn.

"We've postponed our operations in Vegas for the time being," the mobster was saying. "Up until this point we had been working slowly but steadily. However, something else was brought to our attention and we've decided that it would be in our best interest to hold off on finalizing our arrangements on the strip until a later point in time. For those of you that are signed on to be our initial investors, I ask for your patience and cooperation."

"What happened?" Tagliati wanted to know. "What was 'brought to your attention,' Sonny?"

He looked over at Jason, who had risen in his seat. "I'll let Jason explain."

Jason waited until Sonny had taken his seat again before he spoke. "A few months ago, the Zacchara family approached me and Sonny. You all know that since then I've been working with Johnny, Anthony's son, who just had all of Calabrese's holdings and investments transferred to his name. Tomorrow night I'll be flying out to Manhattan and working one-on-one with Johnny. I'll be teaching him the ropes and helping him expand his business. At times I'll take Spinelli with me."

"Right here," the boy announced helpfully, raising his hand.

Jason barely spared him a glance. "I won't be as readily available as I have in the past, but I'll still be in New York. And my responsibilities there will not affect our organization in any way. Ritchie SanMarco is temporarily stepping up to my position if an assignment comes up that's time-sensitive. And I won't be attending the upcoming meetings; Sonny will be bringing Ritchie, Max, and Spinelli instead. I wanted to tell you all personally before I left tomorrow."

Don Sandoval took a small sip of his water. "And where did you say you were heading, Jason?"

It sounded like a trap, but he had to answer anyway. "Manhattan."

"Ah, yes, Manhattan," Roscoe murmured, thoughtfully stroking his beard. "Isn't that where your wife currently resides?"

Sonny swore under his breath as Jason's eyes turned to ice. At the head of the table, Sandoval shook his head sagely. "Ex-wife," he corrected. "Ex-wife."

"Oh, yes." Roscoe inclined his head just a touch and gave Jason a sickly smile. "So sorry."

"Yes, Jason, we're all so terribly sorry that your sham marriage was exposed and dissolved," Sandoval continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don Sandoval," Tagliati tried to interrupt, "I don't think-"

"No, no, I think we all have a right to say this to his face," he continued, his hard black eyes gleaming. "It has been a long time coming."

"Jason and Michael deceived all of us with their little rouse," Roscoe agreed, looking around the table. Joseph Sorel and his men nodded along. "We all had our doubts as to the legitimacy of the marriage, and it turned out that we were right."

"The events of Jason's personal life are _not _up for discussion," Sonny boomed, slamming a fist on the table. "Whatever happened, happened. But let's all remember that it's Jason's concern and no one else's."

"Stone Cold didn't even want to get divorced," Spinelli felt compelled to add even though he knew he was running the risk of being biffed upside the head and tossed back in his seat. "But sometimes marriages don't work. People aren't compatible. And Mister Roscoe, the Jackal doesn't think you get to talk. You recently remarried. You decided that you couldn't make things work with your first wife; the same thing happened to Stone Cold. Sometimes, _people just aren't compatible_. You might be running and operating on completely different levels and speeds. Take this situation. Stone Cold was cable and the Fair Elizabeth was DSL."

Sandoval rolled his eyes. "Why is that boy even here? Who approved this? I've got such a damn headache…"

"And the Jackal doesn't think that you should be allowed to comment on Stone Cold's failed marriage, either, Don Sandoval," Spinelli burst out hotly. "Especially when everyone knows that you're cheating on your wife with your mistress, and that you're cheating on your mistress with your girlfriend, and the only reason she doesn't divorce you is because she plans to bleed you dry financially. So let's not try to be Dr. Phil when we're no more than a Casanova."

"Spinelli." Sonny placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and firmly squeezed it, forcing him to take his seat. "That's enough. Let us handle this."

"Jason tried to convince all of us that the girl he married was his family, that he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her," Sandoval sneered. "My God, we all had to sit through their nauseating displays of affection and their simpering romantic moments. And all for what? Nothing! We knew it was an act but had no way to be sure – they were both such clever actors."

He shook his head and snarled. "It was all a selfish bid to get us to waste our time, resources, and efforts on a miserable girl he was just planning to throw away when things calmed down, anyway. And to think that we were to actually believe that you loved the cun-"

He didn't get a chance to finish the single-syllable word. Jason cut him off quite effectively when he leapt onto the table and lunged for Sandoval, knocking the older man to the floor. They grappled roughly and Jason managed to land several swift blows before the other men rose to their feet.

He could hear Sonny and Don Salvatore yelling in the background, but Jason didn't register much of anything as he hauled Sandoval to his feet and slammed him against the wall, dealing him another swift blow to the kidney. Sandoval groaned and slumped over as his men lunged at Jason only to be hauled off by Sonny and Tagliati's enforcer, the same man that had helped him rescue Elizabeth from Manny the second time around.

Jason slammed the man's head against the wall and braced his arm across his neck. His eyes blazed and his nostrils flared as he carefully, excruciatingly slowly, applied the 2.2 lbs of pressure needed to make the man's eyes loll backwards. But Don Sandoval was not one to go down so easily and scuffled with him, succeeding in knocking Jason's arm back, and then landed a solid punch to Jason's face.

He stumbled back, and that was all the opportunity Sonny and Don Salvatore needed. Each man latched onto one of his arms, hauling him back and practically off his feet and Jason cussed and thrashed, trying to get back at Don Sandoval who was bent over and wheezing now as his men came to his aid.

Spinelli was in the corner and quickly gathered Sonny's, Jason's, and Don Salvatore's coats. He slipped out from behind the other men, thankfully unnoticed, and quickly followed them out the door as Sonny and Don Salvatore dragged his enraged mentor away.

"The Jackal feels that he should say something witty right now before making his dramatic entrance, but…" He shrugged and flipped them the bird when the men turned to look at him. "You're all jerks. See you at the next meeting."


	20. The Company He Keeps

**19**

_Five months after D-Day…Divorce Day, that is…_

"Cinnabon! Are we ready to go and looking all kinds of fabulous?"

Elizabeth poked her head out of her bathroom and smiled when she saw Elton standing in the small foyer of her Manhattan loft. "Hey, Elton, come on in. I'm almost ready."

"Ooh, ooh, let's see," he replied, holding his hands out for her to come closer. "Oh, do, let's. Who are we wearing tonight?"

She slipped out of the bathroom and did her super-model walk down the hallway, stopping to do a flirty little turn in front of him. "Badgely-Mischka. I wanted something classic, but still a little fresh and unexpected."

"Lovely choice," Elton agreed, admiring the knee-length strapped royal mulberry-colored dress. "Love the brooch, very nice touch." He gestured to the sparkly accessory that Elizabeth had pinned to the low-cut neckline, a full inch and a half under her breasts. "Yours?"

She nodded. "Yup. Real diamond. Something my Gram gave me. And you look nice. What is that, Armani?"

"You know it," he smiled. "So, is that powder room for your primping purposes only, or can anyone get in on the action?"

She laughed and took his coat and scarf from him, carefully laying the fancy outerwear on her couch so that it wouldn't wrinkle. "Sure, help yourself."

"I'm going to take you up on that and steal your products," he sniffed, leading the way to her massive bathroom. "Do you have any pomade? I'm all out."

"Blue bottle," she pointed out, picking up her brush once more. "How do you think I should wear my hair? Down and curly? I was going to go with down and curly."

"Do a partial-upsweep," he advised. "Just a few pieces pinned up in seemingly random places, as if you couldn't care less. Tease your crown a bit. And add something sparkly to match your brooch."

He had never given her bad fashion advice in the past and Elizabeth highly doubted he was pulling a subversive maneuver right now. So she picked up her bobby pins and did just as he said, and found the result not half bad.

"Ah, ah, ah," he clucked, watching her go for the hairspray. "Mist your brush, not your hair, dear. A rookie mistake. Although, personally, I wouldn't brush it smooth at all. Free, loose ends give your mane pretty movement. Everyone knows that. Any hand lotion on hand, dear? Preferably unscented? I don't need to be smelling to the high heavens of magnolias or passion fruit all night, thank you."

She handed him a translucent silver tube and picked up her makeup brush. "I'm thinking of going with light makeup. A minimalist look. Less is more, that sort of thing. Kind of like what we did for Drew Barrymore last week, even though she ended up looking a little orange. Thank goodness for our Photoshop gurus. What do you think?"

"Multi-toned crushed pearl peach blush," he responded blandly, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Honestly, Cinnabon, I'm surprised you even have to ask."

"I like to make you feel included," Elizabeth smiled sweetly. "Hey, did you get my memo after the brainstorming meeting? I sent it, but then I heard you left early to go get ready for tonight, and I wasn't sure if you got it or not."

"Oh, I got it, but I didn't have time to reply. For the record, I agree with everything. I know that the whole "go green" thing is hotter than the surface of the sun that's burning a hole in our ozone right now, but seriously? A photo shoot in a faux-rain forest is not my idea of fabulous. For one thing, any time we've done constructed-real sceneries in the past, it's been a disaster."

"And we're hardly flying our entire crew and a bunch of frail models out to Brazil," Elizabeth snorted. "Honestly, I don't know what the heck Cecilia was thinking. Our staff brainstorming meetings should come with complimentary Dramamine."

"Ooh, look at you, snarky, snarky," Elton smirked. "Kitty's got claws. Show them to Kate and you might get a promotion. But don't do that, because then you'll get my job. But I agree completely, dear. There's got to be a way we can spruce it up. Ha, pun."

"I don't know how we can salvage it, but if we don't Kate's going to murder us repeatedly."

"Truth, sister."

"Okay, what do you think? How do I look?"

"One size fits all splendid," he smiled. "Shall we go?"

Elizabeth led the way into the main room and handed him his coat, which Elton promptly donned. She slipped into her nipped waist black coat, shook her hair free, and took his arm when he offered it.

"You've never been to one of Michael Bloomberg's parties, have you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Oh, no. It was so nice of him to invite us."

"At Katie's behest, of course," Elton confided. "She always gets me invited to the best parties. Now, remember, when we get there, be sure to compliment the chandelier and don't look even a tad bit sarcastic or he'll think you're accusing him of spending taxpayers' dollars on it. Oh, and don't get caught staring at his hairpiece. And tell his wife that you love the peony arrangements. Those are the only flowers she arranges personally."

"Got it." Elizabeth squared her shoulders and pulled the door shut behind her. "You know, I hope I'm not jinxing myself, but I think I'm really getting the hang of these high-society dinners. Well, enough to fake it, anyway."

"Fake it til you make it, dear, that's the motto of our industry," he smiled. "Off we go."

-------------------------

Johnny and Spinelli were laughing at some quietly whispered joke that Jason hadn't caught. He had been too busy scooping out the rest of the room, noting all available exits, checking out all the windows and other vulnerable points of entry, and moving the three of them to a secure spot where they could see everything.

He was glad that Spinelli and Johnny had forged some kind of friendship over the past few months. They'd mostly spoken over the phone and then taken to emailing and instant-messaging each other. Spinelli had been a little disgruntled at first what with all the time Jason had been spending on matters relating to the Zacchara boy, but had gotten over it when he got to know him. And Johnny seemed in genuine awe of Spinelli's abilities and took him seriously, which Jason appreciated because not that many people did take Spinelli seriously.

Tonight, though, he couldn't have them distracting each other. This was Johnny's first party among the (legitimate) New York elite and it was important that it went well. He was mostly legitimate so far, anyway, and he would need the recognition and support of these people when he chose to expand his operations to include a few not-so-legitimate things.

"I can't believe we're meeting the mayor of New York," Spinelli murmured. "I hope he has a good spread. Some of those appetizers look like they're not living up to their name."

"He likes to be called Mike," Jason told the boys. "Not Mayor Bloomberg, not Michael, but Mike. Shake his hand firmly – he always measures people by the strength of their handshake. Make good eye contact with him, and laugh at his jokes. And don't mention anything related to politics _at all_. He's got a new tax hike that he's got to push through, so he's really defensive about it. Steer clear of all of it. And if either of you are Mets fans, for fuck's sake, keep your mouth shut."

"Got it, Stone Cold," Spinelli replied as Johnny nodded along. "Don't worry, we won't embarrass you."

"Johnny, I want to make sure everyone here knows you, either by name or by sight," Jason continued. "Stay in clear view, off to the side here, and don't look too eager. Don't approach anyone by yourself, but let them come to you. And take very few appetizers, nothing that requires a napkin. You're here to network and make yourself known, not have fun."

"You know a lot about these people," Johnny mused. "Or at least, how to act around them. How come you don't attend more of these things? I've always heard that you're a terrible recluse."

"I hate these goddamn parties," Jason shrugged. "Hate the food, hate the people, hate dressing up. This is Sonny's world. He's comfortable with all this, the attention, the mingling, all the shit you have to do. I've never been like him. I'd much rather be at home or out riding. But this is important to your image and your future here in New York, and Sonny's trained me to know how to deal with these functions, so I'm going to teach you."

"I certainly appreciate the sacrifice. But tell me, who are these people? I don't even recognize half of them."

"That's because you're not supposed to," he replied. "These are the people behind the biggest institutions and movements in New York, and you're going to be one of them. Faceless and powerful. Take that man over there."

Johnny followed his gaze to a tall, well-dressed man with a prominent widow's peak. "Who is he?"

"Prince Nikolas Cassidine, heir to Cassidine Industries."

"A Port Charles native like yourself, correct? I know I've heard the name."

"Yeah. His uncle Stefan heads up most of the family's operations from their home in the Grecian Isles, and Nikolas is located on Spoon Island off of Port Charles. He's a close personal friend of the Governor's, and every New York mayor for the past ten years has invited him to all private parties."

"What's he like?"

"Level-headed, generous, and discreet," Jason answered. "He's slow in revenge – likes to give people the benefit of a doubt – and he's a very valuable ally to have. It doesn't take much to get on his good side. Take advantage of that."

"Okay…what about that guy?"

"Sean Rashid, next in line to be CEO of Mastercard." They were staring at an older man of Asian descent, dressed in a clean black suit and sipping sparkling water. "He's been based in the Emirates for the past ten years but comes home often – has family in Alabama, Chicago, DC, and up in Canada, and makes frequent trips to the corporate headquarters. Not too important in his own right, but he's a good man to know for his connections. Don't ask him out for drinks, though – he's a Muslim and doesn't do that. Can't resist a game of golf, though. Also owns a race track in Dubai."

"Horses?"

"Cars," Jason corrected. "Drives all the time, whenever he has a chance. I know you used to do that, too, back in Rome, so try to steer the conversation toward it and bond on that."

"Good advice," Johnny murmured. "What about…her?"

"Mike's sister-in-law, forget about her. No one important."

The boy smirked. "Man, you've got a handle on all these people. Okay, so who's that guy?"

"Trevor Lansing, New York District Attorney and a _very _good guy to have on your side."

"You and Sonny know him pretty well, right?"

He nodded. "Trevor's come through for us in the past. If you ever run into legal troubles, give him a call. If he isn't in a position to offer you legal advice, he'll know how to make it go away. Smart man, so watch your step around him. Make a stupid mistake, and he's quick to lose respect for you."

"Tough crowd. Who's that guy standing next to him? The one in the gray suit?"

"Don't recognize him. Doesn't look like anyone important."

"How can you tell?"

"Look at the way he's talking to Trevor. He's talking too fast, moving his hands too much. He's trying to keep him entertained. He's nowhere near as important as Trevor."

"I remember hearing that Trevor Lansing recently got engaged or will be getting engaged or something of that nature…"

"He's already engaged," Jason confirmed. "To Kate Howard."

"Is she here?"

"She's around somewhere – I just saw her a second ago, somewhere over there. She's the editor of _Couture Magazine_ and is supposed to be some sort of authority on fashion."

Both Johnny and Spinelli self-consciously smoothed their lapels. "She's not going to rip us to shreds for wearing spread-collar suits, is she?"

"At least you didn't go with a double-Windsor," Spinelli hissed, frantically tugging at his black tie. "I gotta get rid of this thing before she sees. I knew it was a mistake but I did it anyways!"

Jason stared at the two boys as if they'd started speaking in tongues. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Fashion," they answered in unison.

"Spread collars were big last year," Johnny explained, gesturing to his apparel. "But I can't help it, I like this suit. Claudia gave it to me on my birthday."

"But at least he has sentimental reasons for the way he's dressed," Spinelli muttered, stuffing his tie into his pocket. "Only the Jackal is foolish enough to wear a double-Windsor knot with a two-button suit. Stupid, stupid."

Jason was still staring at both of them. "…I have no idea what the hell you just said."

"Says the man in the classic Armani," Spinelli grumbled. "He's lucky – it's a fool-proof ensemble."

He still had no idea what they were talking about, so Jason decided to let it go. "If I see Kate Howard again, I'll introduce you. She's a good friend of Brenda's and we see her at least a couple times a year. Just saw her last month at a Cassidine ball at Wyndemere. She's nice enough. Kind of prissy. But you get along with Claudia, so it shouldn't be much worse."

Johnny indulged a crooked smile. "I'll spare you hell and not divulge that bit to her. And hey, while you're at it, can you introduce me to _her_?"

"Who?"

He tipped his chin toward a woman across the room holding a half-full glass of wine and talking animatedly with a dark blonde in a black dress. "The leggy brunette in purple."

"Uh…" Spinelli's voice sounded more like a croak. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Johnny asked as Jason finally spied the woman he was gesturing toward.

"…Because that's Stone Cold's ex-wife, the Ever Fair Elizabeth…Webber."

And sure enough, it was her.

Standing in the middle of Mike Bloomberg's parlor in a deep purple dress and her hair down in curls was his wife, laughing and talking with Kate Howard as if the two of them were the best of friends.

For a moment, Jason forgot to breathe. He forgot to breathe, he forgot to move, and he even forgot to _think _as he watched her.

She looked amazing.

The last time he'd seen her, she was haggard, drawn, and endlessly tired. She had black circles under her eyes, her hair was dull and thinning, and she looked emaciated. Now…all that had changed.

Her hair was longer, thicker, shinier, and tumbled down her back in fat curls and loose waves. Her skin had regained its peaches and cream tone and glowed warmly, set off nicely by the dark color of her dress. She had gained back all the weight she lost while with him and looked healthy once more. And she certainly looked happier: her expressive eyes were shining brightly as she giggled over something Kate was saying. Jason couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her laugh or seen her looking so content.

Johnny and Spinelli were behind him now - apparently, he'd taken one step toward her – and watched him apprehensively. Even after all these months, almost half a year, he was still inexplicably drawn to her. He'd thought of her, even dreamed of her, so often for the past five months, all the while telling himself to stop and willing himself to forget, and seeing her now, flesh and bones, in front of him threatened to blur his boundaries between wishful whim and painful reality.

The room was quieter now. Kate and Elizabeth were still talking, but their voices were hushed and Elizabeth appeared distracted, as if she could almost feel his eyes boring into hers. She turned her body, her eyes searching the room, and then she saw him.

And for that moment, Jason Morgan was absolutely certain that his wife had forgotten to breathe, move, or even think as well.

Spinelli and Johnny fidgeted awkwardly when they saw Kate's head snap in their direction. Her eyes widened when she spotted Jason, and her apprehension was enough to attract Trevor's attention. His gray eyes moved shrewdly back and forth between the couple, assessing the tension and imagining the possible outcomes, as he no doubt did while facing down a jury.

As if not of his own volition, Jason gravitated another step closer to her, and that was when Elizabeth snapped out of it. Her grip on her wine glass loosened and it fell to the floor, shattering on the hardwood.

The harsh clatter drew the attention of all the guests, and the first thing they noticed upon assessing the situation was that Elizabeth had turned deathly pale. Jason balked, his gaze snapping to the shards of glass that littered the floor along with the puddle of wine, and then back up to her now terrified sapphire orbs.

And then, without another sound, the woman once again known as Elizabeth Webber turned on her heel and fled the room.

The other guests watched her go, and some of them proved brave enough to look at Jason once more. The others stared at their drinks, their feet, the chandelier that the Mayor most definitely did not buy with taxpayer dollars, anything but the formidable 6'2 man who was left staring after the young woman in thinly veiled dismay.

Kate gulped and, darting an apologetic glance at her friend Mike, handed her drink to her fiancé and hurried after Elizabeth.

Johnny and Spinelli both moved forward, eager to take the attention off of their mentor, but by the time they drew near the mask had descended and Jason's face was expressionless.

Johnny folded his arms across his chest as Spinelli awkwardly patted Jason's shoulder. "Wow. We can, ah, forget about the introductions."

He shook his head and let out a disbelieving cluck. "Damn, she _really _did not want to be in the same room as you."


	21. Like Two Ships In The Night

**20**

"I had no idea Jason was married."

"He got divorced about a month or two before you guys first spoke," Spinelli explained as the two of them tried to keep up with Jason, who was walking uncommonly fast. It was morning and time for breakfast, but Johnny had wanted to go out instead of ordering in as always, so Jason decided they would go to one of his favorite little café's for a peaceful, _quiet _breakfast. Emphasis on quiet.

And that was certainly the word for the man as he practically stormed down the street, bumping into the other rude New Yorkers – which he was as well – and ignoring their yelled obscenities. In fact, Johnny and Spinelli were having a hard time keeping up with him but insisted on conversing anyway.

"Who was she? Did they meet through Trevor and Kate?"

"No, no," Spinelli replied, pulling his beanie a little lower over his forehead. "Elizabeth was a student at Boston University when she first met our Stone Cold. The Little Mister Corinthos Sir had been kidnapped and she, in trying to summon help, had been captured as well. We tracked down the evil-doers and Stone Cold rescued them both."

"A rescue, huh? Pretty big leap between 'rescue' and 'marriage.' In fact, many men, my father included, would say the two words were antonyms."

"Ease up on your cynical vibes, Interloper, you're harshing the Jackal's mellow. And Stone Cold only married the Fair Elizabeth because the Unhinged One, Manny Ruiz, promised to kill her and since she had saved Little Mister Corinthos Sir's life, Mister Corinthos Sir and Stone Cold felt indebted to her and vowed to do whatever they could to protect her."

"Was she nice?" Johnny wanted to know. "Because one of my father's men had to have a marriage of convenience, and it was hell for everyone involved. The woman was a real succubus."

"Fair Elizabeth was exceedingly nice," Spinelli assured him. "She's only a year older than us. Well, actually, only a year older than me, same age as you. She got along very well with the Silent Sentinels and the Goddess."

"That's your Mister Corinthos Sir's wife, right?"

"Occasionally, she likes to be called Brenda," Jason grumbled over his shoulder, wishing those two idiots would find something other than his love life – or pathetic lack thereof – to discuss. But they were boys, and boys never did what others hoped they would. It was the primary flaw of their kind.

"She seemed nice, that's for sure. Looked nice, too. Damn."

Jason snarled and whirled around so fast that Johnny, who was only a pace behind, collided with him. "Are you _trying _to-"

"Yes." And his impish grin told Jason that sure as hell was the truth.

He grunted and swung around, picking up the pace with Max at his side. The boys followed dutifully, if not just a little insubordinately. 

"Yes, the Fair One did look exceedingly fair last night. It was a welcome change."

"What do you mean?"

"When she lived with us, the Fair One lived in jeans and sweatshirts, just like us. Me," Spinelli corrected. His companion, after all, was always dressed to the nines. Occupational hazard, he supposed. It was important for the image. "She always wore her hair in ponytails or those weird floppy knot type things girls sometimes do. The Goddess would give her dress-up pointers, so whenever we had to attend a party or other function the Fair One always looked nice. But at home? Frumpsville."

Jason gritted his teeth and roughly shouldered another man walking in the opposite direction, barely resisting the urge to match the man's obscene suggestion at the affront. "There was nothing wrong with the way Elizabeth looked."

"Stone Cold is very protective of the Fair One," Spinelli whispered loudly to Johnny. "At the last Five Families meeting he attended, he put his fist down Don Sandoval's throat for insulting her. Both Mister Corinthos Sir and Don Salvatore had to haul him away. It was the most fun I've ever had at one of those monkey-suit meetings."

Johnny smirked and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "If your Stone Cold is so protective of the Fair One, why'd they get divorced? Seems like that's the opposite of being protective, at least in our world."

Spinelli looked away now, watching the traffic in the street. "The Jackal has spent much time extensively pondering that."

Jason growled under his breath. Of course he had, the little shit. Spinelli had long since decided that Jason's life was much more interesting than his own so, after all, it made sense.

"But I still can't say why, exactly. All I know is that Stone Cold was angry all the time, and that made the Fair One sad all the time."

Max glared sharply at the boys, but it was too late: Jason had already heard, despite Spinelli's attempt to lower his voice and be discreet.

"That's too bad," Johnny murmured. "For both of them."

"Here it is," Jason half-barked, gesturing to a lesser-known, quiet little restaurant that he always came to for breakfast if he was in the Manhattan area. "Go in, get a table, and try to behave for once. I'll be there in a minute."

The boys shrugged and dutifully filed in while Max lingered with Jason, presumably to discuss something business-related. Jason happened to glance into the swanky café after the boys set foot inside and balked when he saw the other patrons.

Elizabeth, Elton, Kate, and two men in suits were sitting together at a large table, sipping tea while looking through a black file Kate had in her hands, most likely some sort of advertisement proposal.

"Hey-"

"What the-"

Johnny and Spinelli sputtered unintelligibly as Jason reached out and grabbed both of them by the scruffs of their neck.

"What gives?!"

"We're not eating here," Jason growled, shoving them toward Max and quickly ducking out of view of the door. "We, uh, have too much work to do anyway, we don't have time for breakfast. Come on, there's a pretzel cart on the corner."

"But I don't like pretzels."

"No one cares. Just move your asses."

-------------------------------

"You know, I've never been to one of these before."

"You'll love it," Trevor promised, ushering Kate to her seat and waiting for Elizabeth to follow. "There's nothing like a good basketball game to pump you up and energize your spirit."

"Yes, and with the Celtics, there's really _nothing _like a good basketball game," Kate joked, elbowing her fiancé in the ribs as they took their seats. 

Trevor gave her a sour look and rolled his eyes, turning to Elizabeth. "She's a Knicks fan. I can't believe I'm marrying her anyway."

Elizabeth laughed, exchanging mischievous looks with her friend. "I'm sure it's a struggle, Trevor."

He smirked and eyed his watch. "Where is Richard? He really should have been here by now. He's normally very punctual," he added for her benefit. "Oh, look, there he is. I knew he'd be on time."

A tall man dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt – Sonny and Jason's former lawyer before he joined his father's firm and Diane took over – grinned widely as he joined them at their courtside seats. "Hey, Dad, Kate. Elizabeth, it's good to see you. How've you been?"

She shook his hand warmly when he extended it. "I'm just fine, Ric, and you?"

"Infinitely better now that I'm here," he replied affably. "Work was a nightmare and this is just what I needed. So, how badly are the Celts going to destroy the Knicks today, Dad? I'm thinking…a lead in the double-digits."

"I'm thinking I'm going to ram my shoe down your throat."

He elbowed Elizabeth genially. "She gets vicious when the Knicks are involved."

"Frankly, I can't tell the difference."

He laughed and turned his attention to the court, where the game was set to shortly begin. "Nicely played. What about you? You excited?"

"Sure," she replied brightly, her eyes scanning the court and the seats on the opposite side. "I've never been to a basketball game, so I'm looking forward to it."

"Good," Ric smiled. "And let me tell you, as long as you cheer for the Celtics, you'll have a great time."

Kate leaned forward and glared at her friend. "Root for the Knicks or I'll have you doing layout on the natural male enhancement and up-scale vibrator ads in the last two pages of the magazine."

Elizabeth had to smile sheepishly at that as she turned to her unofficial date for the evening. "Well, it looks like my decision's been made for me."

_At the start of the second quarter…_

"Would you like something to drink, Elizabeth?" Ric returned with four beers and passed them down the row. "Here you go. Dad, Kate?"

"Drop dead, both of you."

Trevor triumphantly accepted his beer and hers. "She's just a little sore. While you were gone, the Celtics made two free throws."

"Booooo," Elizabeth murmured, taking a sip of her drink. "What?" she asked when both Trevor and Ric arched their brows. "Job security."

"Poor girl," Trevor muttered, shaking his head at his fiance. "She can't even choose her own sports team."

"And what makes you think she isn't happy rooting for the Knicks?"

"Who would be happy rooting for the Knicks? All sensible, level-headed, victory-loving people root for the Celtics. It's practically a commandment: _Thou shalt not be an idiot and root for anyone but the Boston Celtics._"

"Say that on any street corner in this city and you'll be mugged and beaten within an inch of your life," Kate grumbled. "And that's nothing to say of what the _other _New Yorkers aside from me will do to you."

"Why are you marrying her again, Dad?"

"She gets courtside seats to every basketball game in the city at last minute."

"Ah, right. I remember now."

"I hope you both choke."

"Sure, sure, Katie, darling."

Elizabeth had to laugh at the family banter, such a far cry from Webber family banter because there weren't any yelled obscenities or tears or recounts of acts of infidelity. "Are you guys this bad about every sport, or just basketball?"

"Oh, you should see us when the Superbowl comes around," Ric informed her seriously. "You think this is bad? We annihilate each other over football – the slaughter there makes our basketball-related disagreements look like tickle fights."

"It's true," Trevor affirmed. "Katie just will not see reason. Patriots, baby, Patriots."

"Giants, Giants, Giants."

"But the Patriots belong to all of New England!"

"And the Giants belong to the city of New York, and that's all that matters to this Bensonhurst girl."

"There's just no getting through to her," Trevor sighed sadly. "Oh, here we go. Richard, watch number twelve – watch him on Knicks number twenty-one. This is it, boy."

Elizabeth stared out at the court, trying to find the players Trevor referenced but she couldn't make much sense of the melee on the court. And just when she thought she saw the number 12 amidst the blurs of different jerseys, her eyes trailed across to the courtside seats opposite theirs and she found herself staring directly at…

Oh, dear God, no. Not here. Not again.

Her husband – ex-husband, ex-husband – was sitting on the other side of the court with an almost empty bottle of beer in his hands. She could just hear him telling the vendor that he wanted "a beer, bottle not glass," in that gruff voice of his that always got things done.

But what was Jason doing here?! From what she knew of him, he didn't care that much about sports. She'd hear him talking about the game with Spinelli and Max the morning after, but he rarely had time to sit down and actually watch all of it. And she had certainly never pegged him as the type that would actually attend a live game.

A young man on his right with dark hair and a dark, natural tan elbowed him and gestured to one of the coaches a few yards away. Jason followed his gaze and nodded solemnly, actually cracking a grin when his companion said something else presumably relating to that coach.

That young man – she didn't recognize him as any of the guards, so he had to be a business associate – was probably the one that dragged him to the game tonight. He was probably around her age, and seemed to be really into whatever indiscernible event was transpiring on the court. And as luck would have it, they were seated almost directly opposite them, too. If Jason removed his eyes from the court and looked over at the other side of the stadium, he wouldn't have to look very long to spot them.

"Uh, Ric?"

His eyes were glued to the court and his hands were clenched into fists. "…Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your hat?"

That got his attention. "My hat? My Celtics hat?"

"Yes," she replied hurriedly, holding out her hand. "Can I wear it, please?"

He didn't quite know what to make of that but, ever the gentleman, he took it off, brushed the bill, and handed it to her. "Of course. Sure, it's yours."

"Thank you," Elizabeth sighed with relief. She quickly pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and pulled the cap on, adjusting the brim so it sat low over her face and shielded her eyes.

"You see that, Dad?" Ric grinned, jerking his thumb at Elizabeth. "We converted another one."

Kate let out a very un-ladylike curse when the Celtics took a twelve-point lead. "Oh, the whole world's against me."

Elizabeth knew the feeling.

-------------------------------

Candy.

Candy always made things better.

And New York City's best kept little secret – until Oprah talked about it on her show, of course – was Dylan's Candy Bar where Elizabeth had just spent an inordinate amount of her bi-weekly salary on chocolate.

Really, there was nothing better than chocolate to help one get through life's cruel little jokes, whether those cruel little jokes were one's slutty sister sleeping with every single one of one's high school boyfriends before one even had a chance to do that oneself (the memory alone made her want to pull Sarah's hair out by the roots) or running into one's ex-husband at every single flipping turn.

So far, she had seen Jason (1) at Mike Bloomberg's little mixer when she had all but run screaming from the room in terror; (2) at the Knicks-Celtics game seated courtside; (2) at Sam & Ella's café during lunch with Elton when she had barely managed to duck out herself and drag a fawning Elton with her before Jason noticed; (3) at the movie theatre in Brooklyn where Kate wanted to go see old black and white Cary Grant afternoons on the day they both played hooky together, although to be fair, Jason wasn't actually in the theatre but standing on the street corner a block away; (4) at a late-night pizzeria that made her absolute favorite chocolate-dipped cannolis to go; and (5) at Bloomingdale's when she had gone to buy a pretty new white coat to wear over her fancy, fluffy dresses, all Sex & the City like.

Of course, she had no idea that during that same amount of time, Jason had seen her at (1) Mike Bloomberg's little mixer; (2) courtside at the Knicks-Celtics game; (3) at the Ferragamo show that Johnny had insisted on dragging him to because he felt they both needed new designer suits; (4) in the lobby at Johnny's new apartment building when she came to pick up a friend for lunch; and (5) heading for the same hot dog cart he was heading to – the only good hot dog cart in the city – before he jumped into the nearest store to avoid crossing paths.

No, Elizabeth knew none of that. As far as she was concerned, she had already had an inordinate amount of almost-run-ins with her ex-husband and even one was one too many. She wanted to forget that she ever saw him at the mayor's party, looking devastatingly calm and put together in his handsome suit, so composed and placid even when her insides were all swirling about and she felt like she was going to throw up. But that was just who Jason was: he was Mr. Unflappable, never fazed by anything or anyone, much less her. She was willing to bet now that he realized how lucky he was to have her out of his life so that he could go about his business as if they'd never met, and that was good. It was just sad that their unfortunate run-in might have jeopardized the progress they had both made.

It certainly threatened to jeopardize her progress. She thought about him constantly now, always looking over her shoulder when she caught a flash of a tall man dressed in black, when she heard footsteps behind her, when she caught a man on his cell phone in the corner of a large room. Especially when she visited the predominantly Italian areas of the city – she could always picture him sitting in one of those burgundy leather booths in the corner of the restaurant, shrouded in cigar smoke, laying out the terms of his next deal or alliance.

Good God, she was watching too many DeNiro-Pacino movies with Kate again.

So now, because she was once again a nervous wreck thanks to her husband, Elizabeth decided that she would take all of her yummy chocolate, go home to her cozy little loft, put on her favorite mixed CD, snuggle on the couch with a warm blanket and a steaming cup of Columbian Roast, and she was going to _eat all of it_.

It would be gross and sublime and awful and indulgent and she'd hate herself the next morning, but she would do it anyway.

She had her chocolate covered peanuts, vanilla clodhoppers, chocolate covered peanut butter Oreos, chocolate covered marshmallows, truffles filled with just about every confectionary substance imaginable, bite-sized s'mores, a tin of hazelnut hot chocolate mix, and enough candy bars to feed an army of small, hyperactive children.

Life was going to be good – as soon as she got this chocolate home. 

Fortunately, Dylan's wasn't too far from her apartment, which was good because Elizabeth didn't own a car. She had more than enough money to buy one, that was true, but it felt like no one really drove a car in New York City except the tourists. Her usual destinations were all within walking distance, and at most she'd take a cab. Parking was a nightmare, anyway, so she was glad she didn't have to deal with that. And she was only two blocks from her apartment, so it all worked out.

Everything was going to be fine.

That was the last thought she had before she turned the corner and collided with something tall, hard, and very warm. 

Everything was _not _going to be fine.

Especially since that tall, hard, very warm something was in fact her ex-husband, who just happened to be everywhere. Like a freaking Shape Shifter or something.

He caught her easily when she stumbled, her balance further obstructed by the two giant bags of candy she held, and Elizabeth squeaked when she felt his hands on her body. The noise of distress startled Jason, who quickly moved his hands so that he held the bags she grappled with instead of her.

Another pair of hands darted out and grabbed her arm, steadying her, as another pair reached for her other elbow. It felt like being groped by an octopus. Or rather, how she imagined being groped by an octopus would feel.

"Are you alright?" The same young man from the basketball game looked down at her, the concern clear in his soft, dark eyes, and Elizabeth quickly realized that the other hands belonged to Spinelli.

"Fair One, watch it – you okay?"

She felt the color bloom in her cheeks as she extracted herself from them. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, sorry. Sorry about that. I should have watched where I was going."

"It's not your fault," the unknown young man replied, giving her arm a little pat before he withdrew his hand. "I'm, uh, Johnny Zacchara, by the way. I, uh, already know who you are. And I believe you already know these two."

His attempt at a joke fell flat as Elizabeth's worried eyes darted up to those of her ex-husband's. In the background, Spinelli continued to chatter on.

"What a twist of fate, finding you, Fair One, here of all people! We were just going to dinner with a couple of Stone Cold's coffee business friends at the Excelsior and here you are! So how-"

"Spinelli," Jason cut in without removing his gaze from hers. He shifted his grip on the two bags of candy he now held. "Johnny. Give us a minute."

The boys looked at each other and then at Elizabeth and inched away from the couple. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"We'll just be over there, under the awning," Spinelli added for Elizabeth's benefit. A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked when he realized the boy was most likely remembering the last time he had seen the two of them standing in the same room, when Elizabeth hadn't wanted to be left alone with him and when he'd taunted her about being pregnant.

His gaze remained trained directly on her, his eyes cool and calm and giving nothing away. She knew better than to be surprised, and she knew better than to hope for anything else, even the slightest show of emotion. After all, this was the first time since he'd shoved the divorce papers in her hand that they were standing face to face for more than twenty seconds before she screamed like a girl and ran away in fright.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment – too long a moment – painfully aware of everything else going on around them, and of Johnny and Spinelli watching their every move from the safety of the awning. She had vowed not to speak first, and he had done the same.

So they stood and stared.

Finally, Elizabeth broke. She knew she would, and she didn't disappoint herself. Of course, in not disappointing herself, she disappointed herself, but that was nothing new.

"Hi."

He blinked, but that was the only registered movement. "Hey."

Again, they stood and stared. This time, Elizabeth vowed that she wouldn't say anything. After all, he was the one that wanted a moment alone with her, so he could just decide what they should talk about, the sterling conversationalist.

"It's been a while."

So he went with stating the obvious. Elizabeth nodded her head just slightly. "Yeah, it has."

His eyes, previously blank and cold, flashed with just a hint of accusation. "We haven't heard anything from you in a long time."

She nodded again, knowing just what he was getting at, but not wanting to hand the words to him. "Yeah."

That flash of accusation glittered again in his expressive eyes. "Michael misses you."

Her eyes softened at the mention of the little boy, but Elizabeth knew she couldn't give in to his intimidation tactics. The second anyone showed any regret or acquiescence to the feared Jason Morgan, that was the second that person lost. And Elizabeth was damn sick and tired to losing to this man.

"It's for the best this way."

His lips tightened at the corners. "Is it?"

She nodded again, refusing to be cowed. "Yes."

Jason could be seen gritting his teeth, and Elizabeth found herself wondering if he was having a hard time dealing with this Elizabeth, the one that refused to be intimidated or silenced, the one that wouldn't slink away and wouldn't give him any ammunition for his weapon of choice. He had shown her during their marriage that he could be a cold, hard, unreadable man; he would learn now that she could as well.

"He used to ask about you all the time," Jason ground out, his grip tightening on those two ridiculous bags of candy. "Every single day, and then every single night before going to sleep. He would ask why you didn't call, and why he couldn't come see you like Sonny and Brenda promised. He asked me all the time to call you, to send you a letter, to have Spinelli find you and then drive down to see you. _All the time_."

Her softened expression gave away little else other than understanding during his rant, and Elizabeth had never been prouder of herself for being so calm and level-headed in the face of the one man that could turn her whole world upside-down.

"And does he still?"

Her gentle question seemed to startle him, and Jason balked at her. "What?"

Elizabeth regarded him kindly and clasped her hands in front of her. "Does Michael still ask about me?"

His brows pulled together as he sputtered out an answer. "Well, no, not so much anymore, but sometimes, still…"

"When was the last time he asked about me?"

"…Uh…" Jason actually had to stop to think about it, which was a good sign to her. "…Last month."

"And when was the last time he mentioned being kidnapped by Manny?"

"…A while before that."

She continued to meet his gaze evenly. "And does he still have nightmares?"

He gaped down at her. "Nightmares?"

"Ask Sonny and Brenda," Elizabeth told him gently. "But my guess is that they're nowhere near as frequent or as bad as they were before I left. How's he doing in school?"

Her questions weren't making sense to him, but Jason replied anyway. "He's, uh, doing good. Better. His attendance is more regular, I guess…"

"And does he have friends?"

"Uh…there's this one kid who always has a runny nose that comes over to the penthouse sometimes…Elizabeth, I-"

"And that's why it's better this way," she cut him off, her voice kind but firm. "Don't you see, Jason? It's better for him not to have contact with me, to forget that I was ever a part of his life."

Her ex-husband stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "He doesn't _want _to forget."

"It's better for him if he does," she insisted without stooping to arguing about it. "A few years will pass, and he _will _forget about me. And he should."

Jason's nostrils flared, a sure sign that he was having trouble keeping his temper in check. "He loves you."

"And now he loved me," she responded, emphasizing the past tense. "In a few years, I'll be a distant memory and he'll be well on his way to living the rest of his life as if I never came into his."

"That's not what he wants!"

"Jason." If he hadn't been gripping onto those bags like lifelines, she would have reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Michael doesn't need me anymore."

His bewildered expression made it clear that he didn't agree in the least. "What are you talking about? You're the one that was there for him when – when Manny kidnapped him. He would always talk about how you held him and talked to him and sang him to sleep. He needs you – you were the only good part of that for him. It was the most traumatic experience in his life, and he needs you to keep him from sinking in that."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. I might have been there for him during all of that, but if he's going to really get past that and move on, then I'm the last thing he needs."

"You don't-"

"And you need to just stop and listen to me for once." She knew she was glaring, but couldn't quite bring herself to care. "Since I've left, you told me that Michael's not mentioning me as much, not mentioning the kidnapping as much, probably not having nightmares about it anymore, and that he's doing good in school and spending time with his friends.

"All of that is good, Jason. He's moving on. He's forgetting the kidnapping. That's exactly what he should be doing. If I was still there, yeah, he'd remember me holding him and talking to him while being kidnapped, but he'd also remember the kidnapping itself and how helpless and scared he felt, how he thought he was never going to see his mom or dad again. I would be a constant, living reminder of the scariest time in his life, and I would hurt him more than I would help him."

She shook her head with a sad smile. "Don't you see? He's moving on. That's exactly what he should be doing. And if in doing that he needs to forget that I was such a big part of his life at one point, then that's what needs to be done."

"What about you?" Jason got out, his voice sounding thick and raspy even to his own ears. 

"What about me?"

He swallowed, wondering in the back of his mind if constantly seeing _him _made Elizabeth remember the most miserable, hopeless time of her own life. "Does seeing Michael or thinking about him make you remember being kidnapped?"

He didn't need to say 'twice.' Elizabeth was already shaking her head. "Seeing that little boy or thinking about him makes me remember…a very special little boy with a lot of love to give, and it makes me hope that he'll be just as loving and generous when he's a man as he was when he was five."

She took a step back and, glancing at Spinelli and Johnny, neatly sidestepped him. The conversation had turned cold and she was once again eager to leave. "It was…I'm…I'm glad you're doing well. I should go now."

Jason watched dumbly as she walked away, and it was only when she was several yards away and starting to half-jog that he remembered she left her precious cargo behind. "Wait! Elizabeth! You forgot your-"

"Keep it," they heard her yell over her shoulder.

"But I don't know what it is!"

"Chocolate!"

She was farther away now, almost down the corner, and people were starting to stare. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"For God's sake, eat it!"

Spinelli and Johnny inched closer as Jason stared after his wife, dumbfounded and still holding two bulging sacks of candy. Johnny was the first to speak.

"Damn, she _really_-"

"I know, Johnny. Just shut up."

--------------------------------

_Back in Port Charles…_

"Uncle Jason! You're home!" Little Michael Corinthos was all grins as he tumbled down the stairs and ran straight for his uncle. "We missed you! Did you bring Johnny? When can I meet him? He sounds real cool on the phone."

"Johnny's back in Manhattan, pal," Jason replied, setting two large paper bags on the floor so that he could pick up his nephew. "But he says hi, and he sent a present for you. It's a Yankees hat – it's in that bag right there."

"Well, that was very sweet of him," Brenda said, coming out of the kitchen. She smiled when she saw her old friend and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. "How was the weather driving up?"

"Bad, not terrible."

"Wow…" Michael already had his baseball cap on and was now staring open-mouthed at the contents of the two sacks. "Uncle Jason, what is all this?"

Brenda's eyes widened when she saw all the chocolate, and her first thought was to give thanks that her husband wasn't home so that she and Michael would have adequate time to hide the loot.

"Chocolate," Jason replied unnecessarily, watching the kid rip through the bag. "It's a present for you."

He looked up in delight. "Really? From who?"

Ignoring Brenda's inquisitive looks, Jason stuffed his hands in his pocket and let the corner of his mouth quirk up. "From your Aunt Elizabeth."

"From Lizabeth? Really?" Pure joy glimmered in the boy's obsidian eyes. "Wow! You saw her? She gave you this for me? What did she say?"

"She said that she's really glad that you're doing good," Jason replied truthfully. "And that she loves you."

Michael smirked to himself, pleased, and looked down at the candy. "I knew she didn't forget about me."


	22. Penny For Your Thoughts

**21**

_A few weeks later…_

Enough was enough.

Jason Morgan had absolutely had it. He was still in Manhattan, and he was still running into Elizabeth everywhere because amazingly enough, they seemed to share some of the same circles now, and he was absolutely sick of it. He was sick of turning his back so that she wouldn't notice him talking to one of the members of the Mayor's brain trust; he was sick of ducking into random buildings when he would see her walking down the street; and he was sick of holding his menu up in front of his face when she happened to visit the same restaurant as him for lunch.

This had to stop – for his sanity's sake, and hers.

They had to get past this ugliness. They were behaving like children and there just wasn't any excuse for it. If this was fate's cruel joke, they would both have to play along because they just couldn't go on like this any longer. This was the way it was destined to be: both of them in the same small, tightly-knit part of the city, both of them knowing the same people and being invited to the same parties and social engagements, both of them having to put up with each other's presence.

And if Elizabeth wasn't going to take the initiative, then he would.

If his legs would just obey the commands from his brain and actually move.

Jason had no idea how long he stood outside the headquarters of _Couture Magazine_, looking up at the stone and steel façade, but he did know that he looked patently ridiculous. 

At long last, he kicked himself into motion and entered the building. He walked on past the men at the desk who were otherwise occupied and headed for the elevators. He had to share his elevator car with a twiggy blonde that probably weighed about as much as one of his legs, a small group of elementary school kids in plaid jumpers and dress pants – field trip, perhaps – and a tall, bald Asian man in a lavender suit that chattered endlessly on his cell phone while clicking endlessly on his little handheld device.

Jesus Christ.

The doors couldn't have opened any faster, and Jason squeezed out of the car in a flash and headed for the main desk at the hub of the building. The receptionist was a young woman with curly, strawberry blonde hair and she looked much more interested in linking her entire supply of paperclips together than answering the phone or greeting visitors.

"I'm here to see Elizabeth Morgan."

She glanced up at him, and Jason was familiar with the double-take she did next. He got that from women all the time, if he did say so himself. But instead of fawning over him or flirting with him as most women usually did, this one just looked confused. "Uh…who?"

"Elizabeth Webber," he repeated tightly, ready to just kick himself for the slip. God fucking damn it. "She here or not?"

"Down that hall, third door on your right," the receptionist replied, getting up from her seat. "I'll show you."

He sulked and scowled all the way down the hall and didn't bother righting his expression when the young woman led him to the office – the empty office.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I don't think she's here," she frowned. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn she was. She must have just stepped out for a minute. What time is it?"

She glanced at her watch and blanched when she saw that it was two-fifteen. "Oh, man, I completely forgot…"

Jason arched a brow. "What?"

"Nothing," she replied hastily, excellently covering up her mistake. "I'm sorry, sir, but she's not here at the moment. I'd be happy to take a message for you. I'll let her know that you were here just as soon as she comes back."

He didn't entirely trust her to do that – hell, given her affinity for paperclip linking, he half-doubted her ability to do anything else – so Jason shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll wait."

The receptionist frowned slightly. "She won't be back for quite a while, Mister…"

"That's fine," Jason answered, entirely ignoring her attempt to fish for his name. "I'll wait."

"I'll show you to our waiting area, then." She left no room for argument and began to lead him back down the hall. "If you need anything – coffee, water – feel free to use our staff lounge. I take it you're a personal friend of Elizabeth's?"

"Yeah."

"All right, then, feel free to see me if you need-"

"Get me Elton right now," came a snarl from the corner office. "I have no idea what this is – it's complete gibberish! Take this back and have them redo it. And get me Elton!"

Kate Howard was fuming as she came marching out of her office with a cowering editor in tow. She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and planted her hands on her hips, scowling at no one in particular. "I work with a bunch of…Oh, Jason."

He stared at her and she stared at him, and he finally lifted a shoulder in greeting. "Hi, Kate."

"What a surprise," she murmured, folding her arms over her chest. "I mean, it's good to see you, just a surprise, that's all. Come in, come into my office where we can talk a minute."

She dismissed the receptionist and ushered Jason into her massive office, gesturing to a chair as she walked over to her own. Jason remained standing. "What brings you by?"

His expression gave little away, but Kate was used to this. "I'm here to see Elizabeth."

She was silent for a long moment, and then she smoothed her dress over her lap and slowly took her seat. "I see."

He arched a brow, prompting her to continue. "I'm sorry, Jason, but Elizabeth's not here at the moment. I'm not expecting her back for quite some time. I'm afraid it would be a bit of a wait for you."

Jason scowled darkly. "You don't expect your employees to be working at two-fifteen on a Friday afternoon?"

"I don't expect _Elizabeth _to be working at two-fifteen on Friday afternoons," Kate replied crisply. 

"Why the hell not?"

"It's none of your business, that's why the hell not."

Jason let out a slow, whooshing breath and reminded himself not to lose his temper. Doing so wouldn't help him any in dealing with a stubborn woman like Kate Howard. Every time he had to speak to her, it became increasingly obvious how she and Brenda were such good friends.

"Kate, I need to see her."

She pressed her fingertips together and sucked in her bottom lip as she studied him. "…I can see that, yes."

His eyes narrowed. "Kate."

"What do you want me to do, Jason?" She sat back in her chair and looked up at him. "Elizabeth's not here. I can't very well snap my fingers and restore her to the premises."

"Where is she, then?"

It was her turn to arch a brow at him. "Why? You're going to track her down and ambush her?"

Well, not in so many words. "Where is she, Kate?"

Her lips pressed into a thin red line, and for a moment, the normally unflappable Kate Howard actually looked uncomfortable. "…I can't tell you."

Now, this was interesting.

Jason eased closer, his eyes narrowed and his footfalls silent. As it turned out, the world of high-fashion at the headquarters of _Couture _wasn't so different from his dark underworld on the docks by the harbor. The techniques were all the same, just like the results would be. 

"Kate."

The infuriating woman shook her head. "Stop, Jason. There's nothing to tell. Elizabeth took an extra hour for lunch for personal reasons, and that's all there is to it."

"What personal reasons?" He inched closer. "What is she doing?"

Kate threw her hands up in the air. "She could be out shopping at Saks for all I know!"

Jason tipped his head to the side just a little. "She could be, but she's not. So where is she?"

"That is _none _of your business. And I think you should leave now. It's clear we have nothing more to discuss."

"Kate!" He slammed his palms down on her desk when she started to get up to presumably show him the door. "I am not leaving until you tell me where Elizabeth is and what's going on. Understand?"

Her lips tightened and Kate stared him down, sitting stock-still on the very edge of her seat. "I'm beginning to get what she was talking about now."

Women had the damnedest way of switching topics so adroitly and so completely that a man was left with his thoughts spinning, and Jason was no exception.

"What?"

"I'm beginning to get what Elizabeth was talking about now when she told me what it was like being married to you," Kate replied quietly. She folded her hands together tightly on the desk as Jason continued to glower down at her. "How she said that you could get so cold sometimes, so dark and hard and frozen that you were virtually unrecognizable."

She shook her head just slightly, seeming to regain some of her nerve. "I'm not going to tell you anything, Jason. Not because I enjoy being threatened and intimidated in my very own office by a man that I consider a friend in the loosest definition of the term, not because I'm picking Elizabeth over you, although it isn't really much of a contest, if I must be honest, but because it's simply none of your business.

"The two of you are _divorced_," she emphasized. "That means that whatever she does, whoever she sees, is absolutely none of your business. She doesn't owe you any explanations and she doesn't owe you any consideration. And you certainly have no right to come in here and brow-beat me in an attempt to uncover her affairs. Elizabeth is out, and that's all I have to say to you. You don't have any place in her life anymore, and it's unreasonable for you to-"

"I don't have any place in her life?" Jason shook his head, incredulous. "Since the day she left Port Charles, I've had a guard on her. At all times of the day and the night, someone has always been watching her and making sure that she was safe, that none of my enemies decided to tie up my loose ends for me. I never asked any of the guards where she was or what she was doing or who she was with – all I asked was that they kept her safe and that they reported to me if they ever had any reason to be suspicious."

He glared down at Kate, whose expression had softened just a little, going from glacial to just plain icy. "And according to my guard, Elizabeth is in her office at this time of the day. So when I come in and I find out that she's not, that means that she purposefully ditched her guard because she didn't want him to know where she was going, which means that it's probably someplace dangerous and that she's probably doing something she shouldn't."

"She's not a child!" Kate burst out. "How can you treat someone that way?"

"It has nothing to do with whether she's a child or not!" Jason spat back. "An adult can get into something dangerous the same way a child can. Elizabeth can control herself, but she can't control other people, and they're the ones I'm worried about. If she ditched her guard, then I _have _to know where she is right now. If something happened to her…"

He shook his head, chasing the thought away. "I _will _find out where she is, Kate. Whether you help me or not, I will find out one way or another. And I will make sure that Elizabeth knows that ditching her guard for any reason is not acceptable."

He turned on his heel, ready to leave, but Kate's voice stopped him.

"If I promise that it's nothing dangerous, will you leave her alone?"

Jason looked over his shoulder, his eyes still narrowed and cold. "I can't trust your judgment of 'dangerous,' Kate. I can only trust my own."

And thank God, the damn fool woman actually seemed to understand. "Okay, look, if I tell you were she is, will you leave her alone?"

He scowled and reluctantly turned around to face her. "You make it sound like I stalk her."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Don't you?"

"What?" It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "No!"

She shrugged and began to wring her hands together. "Look, I'll tell you where she is and what she's doing, and then you'll understand why she ditched her guard. And if I tell you all of it, you can decide for yourself whether she's safe or not – personally, I think she is – and then if you think she is, you won't bring it up to her? And you won't tell her that I told you?"

He hated making deals with women – absolutely hated it – so Jason mulled it over in his head for a long moment and finally relented. "Okay."

Kate nodded, her relief evident. "Okay. She's…visiting Doctor Goldstein for her weekly appointment."

The name wasn't familiar. "Goldstein?"

"Doctor Elliot Goldstein," Kate confirmed. "He's a psychiatrist."

Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. Kate could have told him that Elizabeth was signed up for underwater basket weaving classes at the Y, or that she was attempting the Human Fly stunt at the Empire State Building, or that she had quit her job and become a Lornette at Studio 8, or that she was on a date with the goddamn Prince of England, and Jason would have handled it with far more grace than he could currently muster.

"A _psychiatrist_?"

"He's her psychiatrist," Kate repeated. "Mine, too, actually. The man's a genius. She sees him every Friday afternoon between two and three. Sometimes their appointments run long. And she couldn't let your guard see her because he'd inevitably report back to you, or so she thought, so she takes the back entrance out of here and our security guard walks her to the company car, and my driver takes her to her appointment and then brings her back. No one sees her, and my driver is armed. She's perfectly safe."

Jason was already sinking down into the chair across from her desk. "She's seeing a _psychiatrist_?"

Kate eyed him suspiciously, wondering just what his angle was, but couldn't come up with anything. "…Yes. She started seeing him around the same time that she started working here. She said she had put it off long enough and it was something that she needed to do."

Jason covered his mouth with his hand, staring off at a random point somewhere by her elbow. Jesus Christ, he sent her to a shrink. He sent his wife to a goddamn shrink.

Kate was still watching him and, seeing his suspended state, slipped around the corner of her desk and inched closer until she was in front of him. "…Jason?"

He blinked and looked up at her, dazed. "What?"

"What do you think about what I just told you?" She chewed her lip nervously as she peered down at him. "You're not going to confront her about it, are you? I feel bad enough breaking her trust, but the last thing I wanted was to be the cause of any more problems between you two."

He shook his head slowly. "No. No, I'm not going to confront her about it."

"At all?"

Jason slowly rose from his chair, feeling much older than he had when he first sat down in it. "No, not at all."

Her concern overshadowed even her relief as Kate watched him shuffle toward the door. "Oh, Jason?"

He stopped but didn't turn around. "Yeah?"

Letting out a little cluck, Kate pushed herself away from her desk and gently took his arm, pulling him back and away from the closed door. "Are you sure you're all right?"

His eyes weren't quite as focused or shrewd as before. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Kate didn't altogether believe him, but she knew from Elizabeth better than to call him out on it. So she just crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him with the kindest expression she could manage. She struggled with it a bit due to a combination of working in her industry for the past fifteen years and regular applications of Botox, but she did it nonetheless.

"Why did you really come here?"

His expression was blank, and she found that troubling. "I wanted to see her."

"So you said," Kate murmured. "But why now?"

When he looked at her strangely, she felt compelled to add, "What I mean to say is, the two of you have been coexisting in Manhattan for quite some time now. I understand that you've taken on a new protégé based in the area, and Elizabeth quite obviously was hired on by _Couture_. You saw her at Mike's party, and you've seen her around since…why seek her out now?"

He let out a tired sigh and for a moment, Kate doubted that he would even dignify her question. "…Because I was sick of having to pretend that I didn't see her every time I saw her. I just wanted to talk to her."

She pursed her lips together and nodded respectfully. "Did you love her, Jason?"

His eyes snapped to hers so fast it was a wonder he didn't also snap his neck at the same time. "I have to go."

"Jason, wait, please!" She just barely grabbed his arm before he spun out of reach, already on his way to the door. "Please, just answer."

His expression was cold and gave nothing away. "It's none of your business. You've made up your mind already."

"No, I've just heard Elizabeth's side of it," she reminded him quietly. "And now I want yours. Did you love her?"

Jason only barely resisted the urge to snort. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter!" Kate slammed the door shut when he opened it a few inches and glared up at him. "It _does _matter."

"Maybe to her," Jason allowed, "but not to you. You have nothing to do with it."

"I just…" She let out a heavy sigh and looked away, and Jason idly wondered if she realized that she was twisting her engagement ring around her finger. "I just want to know that…despite everything that happened between you two, despite all the danger and the resentment and despite the fact that you were from two totally different worlds…that you loved her. No. That some sort of love was possible."

Now it was Jason's turn to pause. "Why are you asking, Kate?"

If he wasn't mistaken, he could have sworn that he saw tears pooling in her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know why it matters so much to me that you loved Elizabeth. It shouldn't. She's my friend, that's all. We haven't even been friends all that long. But it still matters."

She tilted her head to the side and dabbed at her eyes with just her fingertips. "I'm a child of divorce. I hate talking about it, but I am. My parents tore our family apart with their fighting, but it became even worse after they divorced, if that makes sense. My brother is divorced, and so are a good deal of my friends. Trevor, too. He divorced Ric's mother. And it all sneaks up on me sometimes and makes me…"

She shook her head, as if willing the tears away. "Never mind. Never mind, you shouldn't have to listen to this. It's not like we're the closest of friends, either. It was good to see you, Jason. And I'm sorry if I caught you by surprise with what I told you, but I appreciate that you've decided to be discreet about it. Please feel free to drop by anytime-"

He pulled the door open and was halfway out of her office before he braved a glance over his shoulder. "I did love her, Kate. I do love her."

Her shoulders slumped, and it was like all the tense energy left her body in one smooth motion. Kate pursed her lips together as her eyes began to glisten anew and nodded. "Thank you, Jason. Thank you. I-I'll tell Elizabeth that you stopped by, maybe you two can get some coffee together-"

But Jason shook his head. "Don't tell her anything. Don't tell her I was ever here."


	23. Twice Shy

**22**

_Two or three weeks later…_

Kate had given him a call three days after his impromptu and jarring visit to _Couture _and much to Jason's surprise, she had actually done him a favor. She said that she knew Jason had his hands full teaching his new protégé the ropes of the business – coffee business, she was sure to specify – and thought that the young man would do well spending some time with Trevor, too. She then put her fiancé on the phone and before long, he and Jason ironed out a time to meet Johnny for dinner and drinks afterward.

Trevor seemed to take an instant liking to Johnny, probably because he reminded him of his son as a younger man, and Jason was perfectly happy to lounge around Johnny's penthouse with his beer while Trevor and the kid talked for hours about life, family, the business, the bigwigs in New York and how to handle him, and a lot of other things. It gave him some time to relax without feeling like he was short-changing Johnny and Anthony, and it was good to see Trevor again. He spent so much time with Spinelli, Johnny, and little Michael that he had all but forgotten what it was like to speak to a man with both intelligence and experience.

Johnny had wanted Trevor to accompany them to the game the next week, so Jason had once again gotten Kate on the line. Not only had she taken a look at Trevor's schedule and confirmed that he'd be happy to go with them, but she had gotten them even better seats than the ones Johnny had secured.

He had no idea why Kate Howard was actually being a decent human being for the first time since he met her, but if Jason had to hazard a guess, he'd say it was because he told her that he loved Elizabeth. Kate had really taken to Elizabeth, which was surprising to him, Sonny, and even Brenda because they all knew how the two women's personalities were so drastically opposed, and Jason was finally beginning to see just how close his ex-wife and the fashion editor were.

Obviously, what he had told Kate not only calmed some of her fears, assuring her that enduring love between two people was possible even in a situation as terrible as theirs had been, but also pleased her because she wanted that for her friend all along.

Jason hadn't tried to get in touch with Elizabeth since then. He told himself that if being married to him was terrible enough for her to seek professional help, then barging into her place of work and confronting her probably wouldn't help matters.

This excuse worked for about a week or so. He felt pretty good about it, too, thinking that he was helping her and contributing to her peace of mind.

And then, as always, life intervened and made him go back on his decision in a way that would probably do harm to his extremely tentative relationship with Elizabeth. But again, what else was new?

Moreno was causing problems back home, and they needed all the men they had. Jason had no choice but to remove the two guards he had on Elizabeth so that they could return to Port Charles. He wouldn't have done it, but Johnny had heard him talking on the phone to Sonny and insisted that Jason call off his men and use two of his. Johnny had then personally selected two guards that he deemed trustworthy and discreet and explained their new assignment to them, thus allowing Jason and Sonny a little more flexibility. 

There was, however, the little matter of explaining this to Elizabeth. He knew he had to tell her, and he knew that he had to do it personally. This was the sort of thing she needed to hear from him rather than a strange new bodyguard or even Johnny.

And that was why he found himself walking through the lobby at the building where Kate Howard put out her ridiculous clothes magazine with Johnny, Spinelli, and the two new Zacchara bodyguards in tow. He was pretty sure Elizabeth was in the building, and he planned on taking up only five or ten minutes of her time to explain why she was losing her old bodyguards, and to introduce her to the new ones.

"How great would it be if Giselle Bundchen was here?" Spinelli asked, gleefully hopping up and down on his toes as they waited for the elevator to climb up to the fourteenth floor. "I would be all over her like Elvis on a pack of bacon."

Jason frowned at him. "I thought you were dating Georgie."

"Doesn't mean that the Jackal can't appreciate the feminine aesthetic," the boy replied. "And boy, is Giselle aesthetic."

"Bar Rafaeli's hotter," Johnny felt compelled to add. Jason had no idea who either woman was, just that both were unfortunate in the name department. "Hottest Jewish girl _ever_. That appeals to me, I have to say."

Jason rolled his eyes and tried to will the doors open. "You're both idiots."

"We both need to get laid," Spinelli corrected. "It has been far too long since the Jackal has spent quality time with the Fair Georgie…and he chooses to blame the Interloper for that."

"Hey, I'm in the same boat as you," Johnny argued. "I've been spending so much time with your Stone Cold here that it leaves very little time for the ladies. And Jason, don't get me wrong, you're fun enough and in the right light, I guess you could pass as pretty, but you're no woman."

Jason scowled as the doors slowly opened – _slowly _opened – and squeezed his way out well ahead of the boys. "I hate you both."

"Oh, come on," his protégé laughed as he and Spinelli dodged the various other stylish types that appeared perfectly at home at _Couture_. Underfed pasty rats. "What's wrong with a couple guys appreciating a little beauty?"

"Two statuesque beauties," Spinelli corrected.

"There's nothing wrong with you doing that," Jason allowed as he led the way down the hall to Kate's office. The receptionist looked up, recognized him, and waved him on through. "But Spinelli has a girlfriend."

"And Fair Georgie is the best girlfriend that any guy could hope for," he replied. "The Jackal is most fortunate to have snagged her, yes. But I'm not blind, Stone Cold. And Giselle Bundchen is _smoking_."

"All I'm saying is that if you're committed to a woman, you should show her the respect she deserves." Jason flicked his hair out of his eyes and turned the corner with the boys following like baby ducks. "There's technically nothing wrong with looking at other women, but always consider Georgie's feelings. And remember, a real man never cheats on the woman he's with, or makes her feel like he'd rather be with someone else if given the opportunity."

"But I don't."

"Good. So don't."

Johnny rolled his eyes, and the gesture thankfully went unseen. "And you abide by these standards, too, Jason?"

His mentor snorted. "If I didn't, I couldn't tell you to, could I?"

"So you never pursued sex outside of your marriage?"

Jason scowled. "No."

"Nor in it," Spinelli added helpfully.

He was sorely tempted to smack the boy, but this was hardly the place for it. "Listen, if you two ever want a girl who will let you touch her and still let you hang around afterward, don't be idiots about it. That's all I'm saying."

He was making absolute sense, of course, and the boys both knew this. But they were, after all, boys and derived a great deal of their young lives' pleasure from needling Jason.

"Hey, Jason?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Johnny. "What?"

"How long has it been since _you _got laid?"

Jason scowled as Spinelli and Johnny laughed behind him, and stomped the rest of the way to Kate's office. He rapped on the door and was about to walk right on in when the door flew open and Kate nearly collided with him.

"Oh! Jason! What are you doing here?"

He helped her get a handle on the files she held and stepped back. She looked precariously balanced as it was, and he didn't want to topple her over. "Elizabeth's not in her office, and I need to speak to her. It should only take five minutes."

"Elizabeth's not in her office," Kate repeated, sounding uncharacteristically scattered as she squeezed between the men and waved for them to follow. "No, no, of course she's not. We've got far too much going on for her to be in her office. She's been in since six o'clock with Elton."

"Something big going on?" Spinelli wanted to know. "A, uh, photo shoot, perhaps? One involving models named Giselle?"

"Or models named Bar?" Johnny piped up.

"Photo shoot," Kate confirmed, pushing open the door to the stair well. "Yes, we have a photo shoot scheduled for today and we're trying to get our cover just right. Everyone's in the studio on the thirteenth floor. Elizabeth's there with Elton, and you're welcome to wait with us until she has a minute."

Jason sighed and reluctantly followed the boys and the editor to the lower floor. The two new guards brought up the rear, looking large and out of place in the midst of their surroundings.

"Here we are," Kate announced, letting them into the massive studio where _Couture _organized most of its photo shoots. "There's a spread over there, so if you need coffee or breakfast, feel free to grab something. Excuse me, boys."

Jason looked around the studio with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Dear God, he was in a photo studio filled with models in ridiculous dresses and make up people and a boisterous camera man and some guy in a gray suit that was yelling in a really shrill voice and…Oh, that was Elton.

It was a chore just to get across the busy room over to him, and Jason only barely managed to do so. "Elton?"

The other man spun around and let out a little shriek. "Oh, Heavens to Betsy, Jason Morgan! What are you doing here?"

Jason winced and jiggled his finger in his ear. "I, uh, have you seen Elizabeth? She down here?"

"Yes, yes, Cinnabon is down here somewhere," he replied, gesturing grandly to the studio. "She's so little, though, she keeps getting lost in the crowd. Oh! I know! We'll turn it into a game of Where's Waldo!"

"I'll just wait and find her on my own," Jason grimaced. "Thanks anyway."

"View haloo!" Elton called out through cupped hands. "Marco! Marco! Marco!"

Johnny and Spinelli were cracking up by the time their beleaguered mentor made it back over to them. "Aw, come on, Jason, a game of Marco Polo is a great way to start off your day."

"Shut up and try not to hit on anyone," Jason growled, lightly shoving his protégé to the side so he could hunker down against the wall with them. "We'll wait until this is done and then we'll find her."

"There's got to be, like, twenty models in here," Johnny mused, looking around. "Excuse me."

Jason grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back. "What did I just say? Park your ass there and don't move."

Kate walked by and appeared surprised when she saw the three men clustered together by the far wall. "You're still here?"

Jason arched a brow. "It's been five minutes."

She blinked and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'd have someone find Elizabeth and send her to you, but I really do need her right now. She and Elton are in charge of all of this."

"Then why are you here?" Spinelli asked blankly.

"Because this is a really tricky shoot," Kate confessed, adjusting her binders. "Couture is jumping on the Go Green bandwagon, meaning that this shoot marks a complete overhaul of production here. We're going to start using 10 post-consumer content paper in our magazines, we're using recyclables for all of our lesser needs – take the plates and napkins on the spread table, for example – and even for some of our sets. And there's going to be a photo op for me, Elton, Warren, and a couple of our high-end investors afterward, and…it's all a big mess."

"Good luck," Spinelli offered sincerely. "The Jackal thinks that going green is an admirable goal and commends you for it."

"Thank you, Spinelli," she smiled. "Listen, you'll have to excuse me, but I'll try to make sure Elizabeth knows you're here."

Jason nodded and Kate scurried off when she saw her publisher entering the studio. Elton was still yelling and clapping his hands, trying to establish some type of rhythm, and after a few minutes of keenly surveying the crowd, Jason spotted his ex-wife.

She was wearing black jeans that hugged her gentle curves with a simple white turtleneck rolled up to the elbows, along with a pair of dark blue Converse sneakers that he knew she loved and was hardly ever without. Her hair was curled up in a messy knot, precariously held together with a single pencil, and she carried a notebook in the crook of her arm and was having what looked to be an intense conversation with the photographer as they both gestured to the set.

She looked very busy, and Jason was perfectly willing to let her finish whatever she was doing and get this whole thing done before he approached her.

"They're using a green screen," Spinelli pointed out to Johnny. "That's interesting. Stone Cold, can I go look at the computer hookups? I want to check out their digital interfacing."

"Go ahead," he murmured, waving the boy away. "You might as well."

"How come he gets to go look at the computers but I don't get to-"

"Because at least he's not going to try to seduce a computer into bed."

Johnny frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sometimes, I wonder about that."

Jason let out a heavy sigh and hung his head. "Yeah, I do, too."

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time that a hooker tried to pay _me _for-"

"Shut up and just sit there."

"Only if you bring in a team of the world's finest doctors so that they can best assess how to get that stick out of your ass."

They spent the next ten minutes in silence. Jason kept his eyes on the movement in the room as well as Spinelli, who was talking animatedly with the guys in charge of the digital work. Johnny, meanwhile, tried to doze. Jason was pretty bored, too; after all, fashion had never been his thing and if he looked even semi-put together, it was all Brenda's doing. She shopped for him, she picked out his clothes when they had to go to fancy galas and functions, and she stocked his bathroom with hair gel that she then forced him to use. He had never been into any of it but only did it because of the need to look presentable, and Jason certainly didn't understand the point of putting out a magazine just for the express purpose of looking at emaciated women in clothes that no real woman would ever be caught dead in. 

"Jason?"

He was caught off guard by her voice and instantly snapped to attention. "Elizabeth."

She was looking down at him in a mixture of surprise and dread. "What are you doing here?"

"Johnny and I have something we need to discuss with you. It'll just take five minutes," he assured her when he saw her beginning to turn pale. "It's nothing big, don't worry."

"Well…" She chewed on the very corner of her mouth and looked around the studio. "I'm kind of busy right now, but I guess I could-"

"It's fine," Jason assured her. "We'll wait. Go…do whatever it is you do."

That earned just the tail end of a smirk, and Elizabeth nodded and hesitantly withdrew. The models were assembled on the 'stage,' which consisted of little more than a drop cloth in front of a green screen. Jason could see the computer monitors where Spinelli and the graphic designers were, and he could make out a three-dimensional, very realistic mock-up of a tropical rainforest imposed just behind the models, all of whom wore green dresses in various cuts and styles.

It looked like an exercise in ridiculous to him, but Jason knew by now to keep his mouth shut.

"No, no, wrong, wrong," Elton was saying. "You – I want you standing here. You, go stand in her place. And I want to see the drape of the dress – drape it! Drape it! There! Darling, we wouldn't be having you wear it for our cover if we didn't want you to show off the wow factor. Own it, dear!"

Yeah, none of that made sense. It was just a damn green dress that looked just like all the other damn green dresses. Jason crossed his arms over his chest, tipped his head to the side, and waited for the madness to be over.

"The color scheme looks weird," he could hear Elizabeth say. "It just looks too…artificial."

For God's sake, it was a drop cloth and a plastic screen magically transformed into a muggy tropical rainforest. The ethics of representing reality had long since flown out the window as a result of that – and all the silicone found on (in) the persons of the individual models. And also because of the technology afforded in the form of Adobe Photoshop and airbrushing.

"Let's move some of the lighter greens up front," she was saying. "You and you, move up. You two, take their places."

"Yes, yes, I see it now," Elton agreed, "it's coming together. You and you, switch places. No, darling, maintain her pose. Arch your back, right leg forward. Good, good."

"We can't have them all up front, though. We need to keep a couple behind," Elizabeth interjected. "No, no, you two stay there, but switch places with the one to your right. No, you with the one to your left. Good. Yeah, that pops a bit more, don't you think, Elton?"

A long pause.

"They look like trees."

Jason bit back a laugh at Elton's terse assessment, ignoring the curious looks he received in response. Elizabeth hadn't heard him, thank goodness, and was nodding. "Yeah, they do. Let me check the monitors…"

She leaned to her side and studied the computer screens that Spinelli and some of the other guys were clustered around. "Oh, God, they do. They're not standing out at all. It's too…feathery. Too ruffly. They look like they have leaves growing off of them."

"Idea!" Elton shouted, gesturing to the makeup staff to hurry over. His shrill voice startled Jason, who jolted slightly, causing Johnny to snicker. "You and you, sit down. You, darlings, spread out a little. Yes, fan out, just like that. Oh, you're marvelous – like something out of a Boticelli, all of you. Point that toe, dear. Point it! Good! Okay, can we apply some kind of mud mask or something to their legs? Muddy them up a little?"

"That already looks better," Elizabeth encouraged as she squinted down at the monitors. "Kate, Warren, come here. What do you think?"

"Depends on the kind of texture we get with the makeshift mud," Kate murmured. "Nothing too glossy – the shine will ruin us."

Jason arched a brow at no one in particular. Just what was the point of this, exactly?

Elton was directing the makeup crew. "Don't put too much water in there. We don't want it runny. If anything, we want it to look dried and cracking. Just a little on their toes, between the toes, smudges on the calves. Good, good."

"The sleeves have to go." Elizabeth straightened and directed Kate's attention to the capelet sleeves on the dresses certain models were wearing. "Don't you think? Where are the designers? Can we get rid of the sleeves?"

Kate looked up just in time to see the designers – virtual unknowns that had won on a popular fashion design show and been rewarded with cover spots – nodding. "You mean, pluck them right off?"

"Why not?" she asked, making her way over to the girls. The models held perfectly still as Elizabeth reached out, secured the stitching, and ripped a fluttery piece of fabric right off. "Doesn't that look better?"

"Get the other one."

"Dim the lighting and add a filter," one of the computer guys called out to the photographer. "We can add blur and fog effects to the green screen, and the softer filter you use with your lens will amp that effect."

"We'll need more shimmer on their cheekbones," Elton decided. "If we're going foggier, we'll have to add shine. How's that mud coming? It looks good – smudge it up a bit more. Yes, that's it, really smudge it."

Ten minutes more of that nonsense, and the photographer was finally ready to start clicking away. Spinelli had gotten bored with the tech guys and ambled back over to where Johnny and Jason were seated. Elizabeth waited just a minute more to make sure that she was no longer needed, then trotted over.

"Sorry about that," she murmured, beginning to wring her hands in front of her. "There's no real estimated prep time with these things. You wanted to talk? Um…all of you?"

Jason stood and kicked Johnny to do the same. "Yeah. It'll just take a couple minutes. I've had guards-"

"Actually…" Elizabeth's dark eyes darted around the studio. Most of the staffers were busy with the shoot, but apparently not too busy to occasionally look curiously in their direction. "If we could take this to my office instead, that would be great. If it's not too much trouble, I mean."

"It's fine," Jason replied quickly. "Yeah. That's fine."

They stood around awkwardly for a few seconds before he gestured for her to lead the way. Elizabeth rubbed her clammy palms together and headed for the stairwell, and no one spoke a word on the short walk up to her office.

She let them in and tossed her notebook on a little glass table in her 'lounge' area that consisted of little else than a leather bucket seat and a colorful couch. "Sorry for the mess. It's been so crazy here this week that my office looks…yeah."

Jason tried not to gawk at the mess. He was a neat man, not by habit but by necessity. He didn't own a whole lot of stuff, so it followed that he wasn't really very messy because there were very few things in his possession that could comprise a mess.

But her office reminded him of what it was like when they were married. His living room would always be littered with various knick-knacks: her sketch pads, her knitting needles and an unfinished scarf, her books, her pens with the fuzzy feather tips, her coffee cup, two throw blankets (because one just wasn't adequate, apparently), her slippers, board games that she played with Michael, and God knew what else.

Her office wasn't much different: papers, books, sketches of people and clothes alike, photographs, writing utensils, empty Splenda wrappers, and other miscellanies were scattered everywhere, but Elizabeth moved through the wreckage with comfort and ease. Clearly, she was at home in a little clutter.

She swept off a corner of her desk and stacked all of the displaced items precariously in the corner, and that was when Jason noticed the various picture frames that lined her desk. There was one of Sonny and Brenda dressed in formal wear and laughing in the doorway of their penthouse, one of Michael asleep on the couch, one of her, Kate, Trevor and Ric skating outside the Rockefeller center, and then there was one larger framed shot that sat right in the center in her direct line of vision.

It was one of the very few candid photographs that Jason had ever taken, and he couldn't believe she kept it. It was a shot of him and her tangled up on the maroon leather couch in his penthouse with Michael sprawled on their laps. All three of them were laughing, and Michael's cheeks were flushed and he was in his pajamas. Brenda must have taken the picture, and she must have been the one that gave Elizabeth a copy. And for some reason, his ex-wife chose to hang on to it even though it featured him prominently.

Curious.

"You wanted to talk?" Elizabeth asked hesitantly. She leaned against her desk, clasped her hands in front of her, and looked curiously at the two strange guards.

"I've had guards on you since you left Port Charles," Jason started. She didn't look a bit surprised. "You've probably seen them around."

"They're kind of hard to miss," she replied humorlessly. "Especially when I stepped into Barely There and they followed about three minutes after."

Jason arched a brow, prompting Johnny to clear his throat.

"Barely There is a lingerie boutique," he murmured so only his mentor could hear him. "Your men embarrassed her when she was shopping for naughty things."

Jason shook it off and continued. "Some things have come up back home and I have to call my men back. Johnny's offered two of his guards in their place. This is Sean and this is Casey. They'll be your bodyguards from now on."

Elizabeth offered the men a quick smile and equally quick handshakes. "Something happened back in Port Charles? What does that mean?"

"Nothing you have to be worried about."

She ignored what she understood to be a barb, but was in reality Jason's way of assuring her. "Is everyone okay? Brenda and Michael and-"

"Everyone's fine. We're just taking a few precautions so that nothing gets out of hand."

She nodded at that, understanding it as a veiled reference to the last time things got out of hand and both she and Michael ended up getting nabbed. "Okay. So…I'll be seeing a lot of you guys, huh?"

The guards, who had not had the pleasure of actually speaking to anyone new so far today, exchanged glances and shrugged awkwardly.

"I have some ground rules," Elizabeth informed them, surprising every man in the room but none more than Jason, who found himself wondering if she laid down these ground rules with Max and Milo back home, or with her last two guards. "Obey them and we'll be friends."

"Miss Webber, with all due respect, we're not here to be friends with-"

"Let me amend that: Obey them and we'll be friends, don't obey them and I'll be the worst kind of brat you can imagine." She tossed bangs out of her face and gave the two an assessing look. "First, I like to be called Elizabeth. Not Miss Webber, and not Ms. Morgan like the last two liked to call me. It's Elizabeth. Second, when you're guarding me, please, please don't follow me too closely. It really freaks me out. I-I'm not kidding, I have serious issues with people following me so closely that I can't turn around without bumping into them. It really scares me."

The men nodded. "We'll keep that in mind, Miss – Elizabeth."

"And third, if I buy you coffee when I make my morning coffee run, you have to accept it. No bull about not being able to accept anything from the charge."

The guards relaxed and gave her matching smiles. "If you insist, Elizabeth."

"Well, I'm glad this all worked out so well," Johnny beamed, hopping to his feet. He immediately extended his hand to Elizabeth and clasped hers warmly. "It was good seeing you again, Elizabeth. If you ever need anything and can't get a hold of Lover Boy over here, please feel free to call me. Ask either Sean or Casey for my number if you don't have it. We've taken up enough of your time already, so we'll be going."

Spinelli impulsively hopped forward and gave Elizabeth a quick hug. "You are just as fair as always, Fair One."

The two guards nodded and filed out after their boss, and Jason slowly followed. He was at the door, just about to step out into the hall, when something stopped him and made him turn around. "…Elizabeth?"

She was still staring after him. "Yeah?"

"Listen, it's…" He trailed off and forced himself to move closer to her. "It's been a while. And if you have the time, I'd like to meet you for dinner sometime. Just to talk."

"I…" He could tell that his request stunned her. "…Dinner?"

"Or lunch. Maybe a pretzel at four o'clock in the afternoon," he tried to joke.

Remarkably, that earned him a little smile. "You hate pretzels."

"So?"

Elizabeth chuckled despite herself and rubbed her forehead. "I…okay. Okay, fine. Dinner."

Relief washed through him and Jason felt like jumping to his feet at the small breakthrough, but he kept himself composed. "Okay. How about tomorrow night?"

"…Tomorrow night?"

"The night after tonight."

She gave him an exasperated look and nibbled on her lip in that maddening way of hers. "I don't think I'll be able to make it tomorrow night. I'll be really busy with the photos from today's shoot and the rest of the layout."

"The night after that."

"It'll be another late night. That's when Elton and I collaborate and put everything together before we turn it over to Kate and our editors."

"Thursday night."

She tilted her head to the side and nodded slowly. "Okay. Thursday night. Where do you want to go?"

"How about Rudd?"

"That's the kind of place you have to know someone to get into."

Jason arched a brow at her. "I know someone. And so do you. There's no restaurant in this city that we can't get into."

She actually considered that and found him right. "Okay. Thursday night at Rudd."

"I'll pick you up at seven."

"Let's meet there," Elizabeth cut in hastily. "How about seven-thirty?"

He hid his disappointment well and nodded. After all, he couldn't move too fast. Meeting up at the restaurant was probably the best way to go. "That's fine. I'll see you then."

He turned on his heel and strode out of her office, confidently this time, and if he had glanced over his shoulder Jason would have noticed how she watched after him with the look of a woman relieved, a little pleased, but mostly afraid that she was going to make the same mistake all over again.

"Yeah. See you then."


	24. Too Much, Too Soon

**23**

_Thursday night…_

Jason glared at the reflections of Spinelli and Johnny in his mirror as he scrounged around in his dresser for a clean shirt. The two idiots were currently hanging out on his bed, eating chips and getting them _everywhere_, and bothering him while he tried to get ready for dinner with his ex-wife.

"You're not going to wear jeans and a t-shirt, are you?" Johnny asked as he crammed a handful of Spinelli's barbequed chips into his mouth. "You're going to Rudd, man. They'll toss your ass out onto the curb, no matter how much you glare and at how many people."

"I'm wearing pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt," Jason groused, pulling one out of his drawer. "I'll be fine."

"You can't wear a long-sleeved t-shirt with dress pants, Stone Cold." Spinelli shook his head at this gravest of wardrobe sins. "If you're going to Rudd, you have to wear a dress shirt. Maybe a suit."

"I'm not wearing a suit."

"Jason, think about it," Johnny interrupted, ignoring his mentor's scowl. "You asked Elizabeth out to Rudd, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, so it's obvious that she's going to get all dolled up. You know how girls are. Pretty little dress, pretty little shoes, pretty little thing in her hair, whatever. And if you show up in dress pants and a dark blue shirt, she's going to feel overdressed and awkward."

"And not only that, she'll feel like she wasn't worth getting dressed up for," Spinelli pointed out. "And you're the one that's always telling us to respect our ladies, Stone Cold. Why don't you respect yours? Put on a suit."

Jason's expression was the mixture of a scowl and a grimace. "I'm not wearing a suit. Elizabeth knows me, she won't care."

"Tell you what, I'll pick it out for you," Johnny offered. He hopped off the bed and moved over to Jason's closet. "Something simple. Something with clean lines that brings out your eyes. The little wife won't be able to keep her hands off you."

Jason growled and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and tossed him back. "Shut up."

"Our Stone Cold becomes most pensive when the Fair One's name is mentioned," Spinelli mused.

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck and smirked. "So I've noticed."

Their beloved mentor was grumbling to himself as he pulled a black suit out of his closet and began to pull it on. Spinelli and Johnny remained in the room, now discussing what Jason should do on his date with 'the little wife.'

"You're not _just _taking her to dinner, are you, Jason?"

He tossed his pants onto the lounge chair and began to pull on the other ones. "Yeah."

"You can't do that, Stone Cold, you have to take her somewhere afterwards. Or somewhere before."

"Yeah, there have to be multiple attractions," Johnny agreed. "Like, if you take a girl to the theatre, you take her out to dinner or dessert afterwards. If you take a girl out to dinner, you have to go for drinks afterward, or walk around New York, or find a romantic coffee shop with really great desserts or something."

Jason sighed as he finished buttoning his shirt. "Look, I can't do that with Elizabeth. Not right now."

"Why not?"

"…Because it was hard enough for her to agree to have dinner with me," he admitted. "I'm not pushing her. I'm meeting her there because she didn't want me to pick her up, we're going to have dinner together, and then I'll drop her off at her apartment if she lets me. That's it. Anything else would be pushing it, and I don't think she's ready for that."

Johnny watched him quietly. "…What did you do to her that scared her so bad?"

Spinelli's eyes widened in alarm. "Nothing like what you're thinking! Stone Cold was never physically off-putting to the Fair One. He doesn't have it in him."

"I know that," he snapped. "For Christ's sake, I was never accusing him of man-handling her, or anything worse. But, seriously, what did you do to scare her off so bad?"

"They were just two very different people," Spinelli finally answered when Jason remained quiet after a long moment. "The Fair One was a small town Colorado girl, and she had just moved away from home for the first time and was really liking being on her own, and then all of a sudden she was married to Stone Cold, who was, what, seven years older than her and shared none of her interests and had a whole long list of rules for her to abide by. Not that any of those rules were cruel or unusual," he hastened to add when Jason's expression grew stormy.

"It was a lot for her to handle in such little time, I always thought," Spinelli continued. "And it just felt like it was doomed from the start, even if they had genuinely loved each other even a little. That's just what I always thought."

"Depressing," Johnny murmured. "That's why I'm never getting married."

Jason had to smirk at that. "What, because of my bad experience? That's stupid."

"Look, the way I see it, you're a nice guy," he insisted. "You're fair, and you don't have any really bad habits – like, you're not a gambler and you're not a serial adulterer and you're not a drunk-"

"Just a contract killer," Jason finished, half-amused.

The boy let out a huff of irritation. "No, what I mean is, look, you're a good guy, whether you want to admit it or not. And Elizabeth seems like a good girl. She's nice, she's smart, she's got interests that she doesn't give up on, and she works really hard. And it's fine if you two couldn't make it work enough to stay married – that's life. But for it to be _this _bad…for her to be almost traumatized, for you to be miserable…Sorry, man, but I don't want any of it. It's all fucked up."

Jason stared at his reflection in the mirror and slipped his hands into his pocket. His suit jacket lay on the chair behind him, and he had left his top button open and forgone a tie. "It wasn't all fucked up."

The kid snorted. "Yeah? You mean you actually had some good times while you were making each other miserable?"

"Elizabeth didn't make me miserable," Jason felt compelled to explain. "Not at all. And we did…enjoy each other's company sometimes."

"You don't have to genuinely like or care for someone to sleep with them," Johnny muttered.

Jason spared him a sharp glare. "That's not what I meant. Not all of it. Elizabeth was…She wasn't a bad wife. She was friends with Brenda and treated Sonny and the others with respect, and she loved Michael. She never ditched her guards, never treated them badly, and she always did whatever I asked her to."

"Except the time she jumped out of a moving car to get away from you."

Jason's lips tightened at the corners. "Thanks, Spinelli."

"No problem, Stone Cold."

"You think she needs closure?" Johnny crammed another handful of chips into his mouth. "You said she was seeing a shrink, and that she was leery of going out with you tonight but she agreed anyway. If she gets closure on your relationship, you think she'll be okay?"

Jason didn't want to answer that, mostly because he didn't Elizabeth to have _closure_. Closure was so final, so bleak and depressing. It would mean closing the book on that chapter in his life, and he wasn't ready to do that.

In the end, it was one of Spinelli's outbursts that saved him from responding. "Hey! Stone Cold! I have a great idea! Why don't you take her out to dinner, and then pick up hot cocoa from one of the little coffee shops nearby and take a horse-drawn carriage ride through Central Park? The Fair One loves hot cocoa – with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, of course."

"Elizabeth's been traumatized by horses since her pony died when she was a kid."

"Or you could just go for a walk," Johnny suggested. "It's nice out. Warm. And if she's wearing heels and can't walk around that much, you can always find a nice bench by the fountain and sit there 'til it gets late."

"As long as we're thinking of after-dinner plans for you two, why don't you take her to dinner and then hit the old black and white theatre? I think they're showing Alfred Hitchcock movies this week. Think about it, Stone Cold – Hitchcock films are super scary in an oldie oldsen kind of way. There might be arm-clutching involved, if you know what I mean."

"Hey, hey, better idea," Johnny interrupted, patting his pockets in search of his phone. "Maybe she likes Broadway musicals. Who doesn't like Broadway musicals? I bet I could get you guys really good seats for something playing tonight, too. Doesn't hurt to try, right? Let's see, what's playing? Uh, _Rent _is still around. So is _The Lion King_, that's always a crowd pleaser. Oh! What about _Hairspray_? It's a drag musical, and I bet-"

Jason's eyes narrowed and slid over to meet Johnny's in the mirror. "Anyone who thinks that I would be even remotely interested in a drag musical named after a beauty product deserves to be shot over and over again."

His protégé grinned and reached for the chips again. "Just checking."

"You should take something for her," Spinelli suggested, trying to change the subject. "Would that be coming on too strong, do you think? What about flowers? No, too cliché. If there's anything you're not, Stone Cold, it's a cliché. What about one of those oh-so-original gifts of yours? The Fair One always said that you were the best and most original gift-giver."

Jason spun around. "Really? She said that?"

"Sure," the kid replied. "What could you take her? Hm, we'll have to think about this one. It has to say something without really saying anything. I'm not making sense, am I?"

"Why start now?"

Johnny glanced over at the nightstand when Jason's phone began to buzz and smoothly scooped it up. "Jason Morgan's phone. No, this is Johnny. Spinelli's squeakier; I don't think his balls have dropped yet. Yeah, Elizabeth, I kind of already figured it was you. How? Caller ID, that's how. You're programmed right into this thing. You wanna talk to Jason? Okay, here he is."

"It's the little wife," he whispered loudly as he handed it off to Jason. The older man growled at him and quickly plucked the phone from his hand before Johnny could do any more damage.

"Elizabeth? Yeah. No, I was just about to head – Why not? Oh. Oh. That's fine, don't worry about it. Yeah. Okay. You're welcome. Bye."

Spinelli and Johnny were both studying him carefully. "What was that about, Stone Cold?"

Jason stared at his phone for a few seconds before he clicked into the menu and dialed again. He waited until someone picked up and then turned away from the boys. Not to be outdone, the two scooted closer and craned their ears to pick up the conversation.

_"Kate Howard."_

"Yeah, Kate, this is Jason."

_"Oh, Jason, hello. How are you?"_

"Fine."

_"Did you call for Trevor? I can get him for you. Honey-"_

"No, I didn't call to talk to Trevor."

_"O-Oh. Um, okay. So I assume you wanted to speak to me? What about?"_

"I wanted to know if there was any way you could give Elizabeth an extension on the layout so that she wouldn't have to work so late tonight."

_"What? What layout? We just finished – Oh. Oh, right the layout. I'm sorry, Jason, but I can't. It just…came out of nowhere, even though we thought we were done. And we're really cutting it close as it is. Right under the wire, you know. I need all hands on deck if we're going to pull this off."_

The boys could see a muscle in Jason's jaw tick. "Uh-huh. That's what I thought."

_"Jason-"_

"There _is _no layout that she has to stay late to finish," he growled, not wanting to hear what pathetic excuse she had to give him. "That's fine. Thanks for the help, Kate."

_"Jason, wait! Please don't hang up!"_

The phone was already in his hand and he had been just about to click it off, but something in her voice stopped him. Johnny and Spinelli exchanged glances as Jason sighed and lifted the phone to his ear once more.

"What?"

_"Don't take this the wrong way."_

He snorted. "Is there a right way?"  
_  
"Look, I-I'm sorry. I really am."_

Jason growled at that. He definitely didn't need anyone feeling sorry for him. Not now, not ever. "Is there a point to this, Kate?"

_"It was too soon,"_ they heard her blurt out. _"It was just too soon for her."_

He snarled right into the receiver. "It's been a few months since the first time we saw each other at Mike's. What the hell do you mean, it was too soon?"

_"See here, there's no reason to take that tone with me or use that language. If you'll remember, I'm just an innocent third-party in this after school-special of yours, and I do not appreciate being yelled at. So perhaps you'd better rein yourself in, Jason, and remember that it was these little angry outbursts of yours that caused you to make such a stellar impression on Elizabeth in the first place."_

He bit his tongue, but his scowl remained in place. "You done?"  
_  
"No, but I'll be sure to let you know when I am. You might think that you asked her out casually during an equally casual visit to Couture, but the truth of the matter is that you startled her. She wasn't expecting to see you that day, she wasn't expecting you to reassert yourself into her life-"_

"I didn't reassert myself into any-"

_"You most certainly did, via those two bodyguards and the reminder that the danger of your life is a constant presence in hers, and that those guards are a direct link between her and you and everything that entails. As I was saying, you startled her. I do honestly believe that part of her was happy to see you. She was talking about you more, and she even showed me that picture of you and Michael she has on her desk and told me about how you both used to baby-sit sometimes and that little boy would just run circles around you two."_

She cleared her throat delicately and continued. _"But, Jason, when you showed up and asked her to dinner, she didn't know what to do. She agreed, yes, but she also agonized over it all week. I saw her. She was distracted, she was skittish, she lost her appetite…you certainly do have an effect on her, you know."_

Jason worked his jaw, his expression grim. "I know."

_"So if she called and cancelled tonight, it's just because she thought it was too soon. And as Elizabeth's close friend, I'd have to ask you to respect that and give her some space and avoid showing up unannounced at her workplace. But as your friend…I'd say not to force it. Let it happen slowly and naturally, as it will. Because I do think it will. Just be gentle with her, Jason."_

"Bye, Kate."

_"Goodbye, Jason. You take care of yourself."_

He clicked the phone off and stared at it for a long moment. And just when Johnny and Spinelli deemed it safe to speak and were about to make a random, off-color chauvinistic joke to ease the tension and get their mentor to be mad at them instead of Elizabeth or himself, Jason turned around and threw the phone into the wall, dashing it to pieces.

The boys stared at the heap of plastic on the floor and then exchanged looks.

"Okay," Johnny started as he rubbed his palms together. Spinelli knelt by the shattered phone and picked through the plastic for the SIM card that Jason would need when he replaced his cellular unit. "So we're all staying in tonight. Tell you what – this is fine. This is going to be fine. Spinelli, you order the pizzas, and I'll run up to my place and get some beer."

Jason grunted when Johnny clapped him on the back. "And something in a single malt."


	25. Abstraction Distraction

**24**

_At the opening of Neophyte Gallery…_

"Don't look now, but your Hubby Dearest just walked through the door," Kate whispered discreetly to Elizabeth as she drew her glass of wine to her lips.

Elizabeth reached for her friend's wrist before she even turned around to look. "Don't leave. Whatever you do, don't leave me."

Kate actually snorted at that. "What do you think he's going to do, drag you off by your hair in front of everyone? Jason's not the sort to cause a scene."

"He doesn't have to cause a scene," she replied dryly, spotting her ex-husband with Johnny and Spinelli in tow. "Jason communicates his most popular emotions – anger, frustration, and intimidation – with his eyes."

"I don't think intimidation is an emotion," Kate mused. "No, I'm sure of it."

Elizabeth growled under her breath. "My point is, he's going to walk up to me and stare at me with his crazy eyes and before long, I know I'll be spilling my guts about making up that excuse not to go out to dinner with him even though he asked so politely and that's the last thing I want to do."

Kate wisely chose not to comment on that particular fear. "All right, well, I'll try to stick around for as long as I can."

"For as long as you can? You're the whole reason I'm here in the first place!"

"And it benefits you, too, just a little," she replied sweetly, holding her thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. "This much."

"Why is he even at this thing, anyway? Don't answer that," she added in the same breath. "It's probably because of Johnny. Jason's taken him under his wing and he has to make sure that he shows up at the right functions, right? But how is this a place that Johnny 'needs to be seen' at?"

"If I had to wager a guess, I'd say because of the charity aspect." Kate swirled her wine around in her glass and smiled at one of the society matrons she knew as a casual acquaintance. "Seventy-five percent of the proceeds tonight are going to the Victims of Domestic Violence organization. It's a worthy cause, and having his picture taken while dropping a fat check can only do the boy good."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Besides, I distinctly remember hearing rumors that his father, Zacchara Senior, used to beat his mother occasionally," Kate clucked. "Something like that."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "That makes much more sense. Jeez, Kate."

"Hey, don't be short with me just because you're angsting over Prince Charming over there," she snipped. "He hasn't even noticed you yet. Ooh, look at how enthralled he is with the metallic orb sculpture!"

"He's not enthralled, he's totally spacing," she corrected with a smirk. "Either that or he's checking the structure for flaws. There's no enthrallment going on; Jason hates art. Loathes it."

"Philistine?"

"No, not really." Elizabeth's brows pulled together just slightly as she watched her ex-husband stare at the series of connected steel balls. "His perception was significantly affected when he had his motorcycle accident years ago. It's hard for him to perceive anything too abstract. He can deal okay with sketches sometimes, but it really depends on the picture. Sometimes he sees it, sometimes he sees nothing."

"What did he think if he saw your sketches lying about back in Port Charles?"

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "He tried to not really say much about them. Sometimes I would catch him looking at them when he thought I wasn't in the room. It was kind of sweet, actually. He'd pick up my sketchpad and flip to one of the drawings and just stare at it, like he was concentrating really hard to make it fit together.

"One time I walked in on him and asked him what he thought of it. I didn't really know that much about the long-lasting effects of his accident at that point. He threw the pad down on the couch and got really agitated."

"And you took it personally," Kate deduced.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yup. Very personally. I went out of my way to hide my art from him from then on. Then Brenda pulled me aside one day and told me that Jason couldn't really understand art sometimes, and not being able to understand it – especially when it was important to someone he cared about – made him very, very frustrated."

A small smile tugged at Kate's lips. "You know, that is pretty sweet."

"He's coming this way! Duck!" Elizabeth grabbed her friend's elbow and pulled her behind a wall partition that separated sections of the gallery.

"Watch it," she yelped, frantically checking her dress. "Oh, thank goodness. You almost made me spill. Elizabeth, be realistic about this: you're both at the same showing, and it's not like you can duck out. You're going to see each other, so you might as well prepare yourself."

She watched him glide gracefully through the crowd with Johnny loyally at his side. "Brace myself is more like it."

-----------------------

"Why are we here?"

"Because Neophyte Gallery is an independent organization focused on young, untrained, independent and untapped talent," Jason explained. "It's exactly the type of organization that a kid your age and in your position would support because it's not the type of organization you would be likely to support. Make sense?"

"I just follow blindly," Johnny replied. "Whatever you say makes perfect sense to me."

That was what he liked to hear, especially when he'd just blurred the truth. They weren't really at this gallery because it would give them the opportunity to publicize Johnny Zacchara's appreciation for independent youth culture and the arts. That was the only thing he could say to avoid feeling whipped and completely obsessed with his ex-wife.

Because the truth of the matter was that they were at the opening of Neophyte Gallery because he knew that Elizabeth had contributed exactly three of her works to the initial collection. And there was no way he was going to miss that.

He had tried very hard during their marriage to appreciate her gift. She was dedicated enough to it; she'd sketch with her charcoal stubs every single day, right on his couch. He felt like the least he could do was make an effort to properly appreciate her work especially since there were very few other things they could use to connect.

But the sketches hardly ever worked for him. He would stare at them for a long time, willing the lines and smudges to come together and form something he could actually comprehend. He would have given anything just to see the world through her eyes for a brief, evanescent moment, but it never worked for him.

And then there had been that time that she saw him staring at her work and confronted him about it, asking him what he thought about her composition and style, and he had no choice but to set the sketchpad down and pretend like he was looking around for one of his ledgers. And of course, he wasn't very good at pretending and his thoughts were still focused on her lines and smudges and his mind was still preoccupied with trying to figure it all out and not being able to, and that in turn made him irritable and frustrated and short with her.

It had been disastrous, and she had started hiding her work from him because she thought that he didn't approve of her scribbles and sketches. That was the last thing Jason had wanted, for her to feel that she had to stifle such a vital part of herself for him, but there was no way to tell her that.

So when he heard that she was contributing her work to Neophyte and had agreed to let seventy-five percent of the proceeds go to a worthy charity, he cleared his schedule for the opening night and made sure that he, Johnny, and Spinelli were on the guest list.

Currently, he was standing in front of a sculpture made of linked, sliding steel balls. He wasn't all too sure what it was supposed to be, or why it was called "Madrid By View Of Leech," but he couldn't stop staring at it. And it wasn't because he thought it was revolutionary, and it wasn't because he thought it was profound, and it wasn't even because it was shiny, but because he actually thought that it was structurally unsound and that he spotted a loose screw that should probably be taken care of sometime soon.

"Stone Cold, can I go check out the short film in the screening room?"

"Go ahead, Spinelli. Johnny, you might as well go look around, too. The photographer tonight is the guy in the black Converse sneakers; make sure he's around when you pull out your checkbook. We might as well try to get a picture of you in some of the papers."

"Got it, Jason," he nodded. "What's an act of charity if everyone doesn't know about it?"

He rolled his eyes and gave him a little shove. "You know what I mean. Just go. And each of you are limited to one glass of wine. Understand? Have any more and I will drag your asses out of here."

"Got it," they both replied in unison before heading in opposite directions.

Jason rolled his eyes. How he got himself saddled with two barely-out-of-their-teens boys was beyond him.

Alone now, he accepted a glass of wine and began his solitary perusal of the work being offered up for public viewing. He met with the gallery owner and chatted for a few minutes – a few minutes too long, though, honestly – and then exchanged pleasantries with a couple other Manhattan residents he recognized. But after wandering aimlessly around the rooms looking at what Sonny would have called 'motel art,' Jason knew he couldn't put it off any longer: he wanted to find Elizabeth.

She was with Kate, which was no surprise. She was always with Kate. In fact, he heard from Trevor that Kate had been the one to basically twist Elizabeth's arm into finally contributing her work and putting her name out there.

And in the end, it was his unlikely ally that spotted him and waved him over with a giant smile. "Jason! We thought that we saw Johnny and Spinelli wandering about. It's good to see you."

He nodded politely and looked down at Elizabeth, who offered him a small smile and then took a big gulp of her wine. How nice.

"Yeah, Johnny wanted to check this place out, so…" He trailed off and rolled his shoulders, trying to alleviate the tension that had gathered there. "It's for a good cause. And he thinks it's important to support local talent."

"Local talent," Kate repeated, winking at her friend. "That's what you are now, Elizabeth."

His ex-wife blushed prettily. "Well, we'll see what happens. No need to get ahead of ourselves."

The fashion editor rolled her eyes, impatient with her friend's lack of self-confidence when it came to her work, and locked gazes with someone on the other side of the room. "Oh! Excuse me, I just spotted someone I haven't seen in ages. You two will be all right alone, won't you?"

She gave them both a sickly smile and slipped away as Elizabeth tried to glare at her back without being too obvious about it.

Jason cleared his throat awkwardly, swirled his wine around in the glass awkwardly, and finally looked down at her. "Hey."

She lowered her glass and, sensing his obvious boyish hesitance, gave him a small, true smile. "Hi."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot before realizing he was doing so and quickly putting an end to it. "…How are you?"

"Good," Elizabeth nodded. "Really good. You?"

Jason nodded as well. "Good."

"Oh. Good."

"Yeah."

She licked her lips and gazed up into his eyes, the same ones that always felt like they could bore right through her and read her deepest, innermost thoughts, and then Elizabeth did exactly what she knew she'd do. "Sorry about dinner that one night."

His expression softened slightly and Jason dipped his head. "That's okay. Things happen."

Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip. "Yeah. Things happen."

"Stone Cold! Stone Cold!" Spinelli came running across the room and nearly tackled his beloved mentor. "You have to go to the screening room – the short film is a nudie film! Oh, hi, Fair One. Your appearance is most befitting your title this evening."

She blushed and tried to hide a smile as Jason rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Spinelli."

"So are you coming, Stone Cold?"

"Take Johnny," he ordered, grasping the boy by the shoulders and turning him around. "Go. And for God's sake, stop throwing your candy wrappers in that trashcan over there. That's not for garbage, that's an exhibit."

This time, Elizabeth couldn't quite hold back a laugh as a look of pure horror crossed Spinelli's face.

"It's fine," Jason told him, anticipating his panicked outburst. "No one noticed. And two other people did the same thing. You're fine. Just don't do it again."

Elizabeth smiled warmly as she watched her friend trot away, presumably to grab Johnny and return for a second screening of 'the nudie film' he enjoyed so much. "You've really got your hands full with them, huh?"

Jason snorted. "I thought it was bad enough when it was just Spinelli. Now I've got another one. I thought they'd help calm each other down, but…"

"But?"

He spared her a wry look. "But they've decided to team up and annoy the hell out of me instead."

She laughed at that, and was surprised to discover that it was genuine. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed with her husband. "Well, think of it this way: they keep you young."

"…What's the good in that if they're sending me to an early grave?"

Elizabeth laughed again and almost swatted his arm. "Don't talk like that."

He allowed her an easy smile and when he looked down at her, his eyes were shining. She stared up at him for a long time, caught up in the moment, before it finally occurred to her that they should probably be speaking about something.

"Er…so, have you had a chance to look around yet?"

Jason actually pulled a face, looking more like a little boy than the stoic, composed man he actually was. "A little. Didn't really get much out of it."

"I haven't, not yet," she confessed. "Kate was yapping on and on about the kind of artwork she's having put up for her wedding reception. She just would not shut up."

He smirked. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd say the same about you."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go look around. When you want to behave, you can join me."

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she walked away, which was reason enough for Jason to believe that it would be okay if he followed immediately after. They walked past Kate, who was chatting animatedly with that friend of hers, and passed Johnny who for some inexplicable reason was talking to the gallery owner about Louis Binuel instead of watching that nudie film with Spinelli.

"What were you looking so hard at before?" Elizabeth asked, coming to a stop by the sculpture made of steel balls.

"Huh?"

"I saw you staring at it," she explained. "What was it about it that interested you?"

"That loose screw right there," he replied, pointing it out. "If it gives, all of these go. You know what? Stand right here."

Elizabeth let him pull her in front of the sculpture and watched as he discreetly pulled an army knife out of his pocket. Jason checked to make sure no one was looking, then bent down and quickly tightened the screw. Elizabeth was smirking when he stood.

"It's just not fun for you unless you're allowed to tinker, huh?"

He spared her a bland look. "I like working with my hands."

She was absolutely horrified when the color rose in her cheeks, and Elizabeth quickly moved on. "Let's, uh, look at these."

Jason smirked against the rim of his glass but followed dutifully.

She stopped in front of a series of sketches depicting picket fences in various degrees of dilapidation. "Oh, look at this. It's called _Sub-Prime Mortgages_."

Jason blinked. "This is art?"

"Shh," she laughed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard them. "Okay, fine, these. A painting of three shriners in little cars. _Wool Caps at Sunset_."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"They got me," she shrugged. "There are some more sculptures behind here. Ooh, a wooden hard-backed chair. Let's see, what's the name? _…Singles Going Steady_. I don't get it."

"It's a damn chair."

"Well, yeah, I get _that_," she replied witheringly. "I just don't get – never mind. Oh, uh, let's go this way."

"Wait, wait," Jason interrupted, impulsively reaching out to cup her elbow and keep her from pulling away. "These are yours."

And sure enough, they were standing in front of three Elizabeth Webber originals, all signed neatly in the bottom right corner with her initials. Jason stared openly up at them while the artist herself looked around and surveyed the rest of the room.

"They're nothing, they're not that great," she hedged. "Hey, I think I see Johnny over-"

"Explain them to me."

She turned around and stared at him. "What?"

"Explain them to me," Jason repeated softly. "I-I don't really understand what they're-"

"No, no, I understand," she cut in. He had never asked her to explain her work to him before; she had assumed he just wasn't interested enough to do so. "Um, okay. The first one is a sketch of a man and woman. See him right here? He's down on one knee. Those are his legs right there, and he's wearing a suit."

Jason nodded, following the movement of her fingers. 

"And there's the woman right here. That's the skirt of her gown in the soft violet, and that's her hair in dark brown. She's reaching out to let him take her hand, but their fingers are only barely touching."

"What's that right there?"

"Uh…the man has curly hair. Kind of. Dark, curly hair."

Jason squinted at the sketch and his eyes slowly widened in recognition. "You drew Sonny and Brenda?"

She shrugged awkwardly. "They're a very pretty couple. They just present an artistic visual when they're together. And I didn't draw _them_, really. They just inspired this."

"What about the next one?"

"It's the view of Spoon Island and Wyndemere from the docks, right by your piers."

He tilted his head to the side as the lines and angles came together. "I can kind of see it."

"I wanted to make it more like an actual photograph," she explained. "That's probably why. I relied on lots of shading to make it look as close to a surveillance photo of Wyndemere as possible. You can see photos."

He nodded. "And the last one?"

"That's the view from my bedroom window at the Webber house in Boulder." Elizabeth pressed her lips together and squinted at the painting. "That's what I saw every time I looked out."

"It's a nice view."

"I guess. But it was hard for me to appreciate it because all I ever wanted was to be as far away from that place as possible."

"What do you call it?"

_"Nowhere_."

"Ah."

"Jason!" Abruptly, they turned around to find Johnny hurrying over to them. "Hey, Elizabeth. Good to see you."

She wasn't altogether prepared when he leaned forward and quickly pecked her cheek, but she recovered well and offered him a wide smile. "Hello, Johnny. I'll leave you two alone…"

"Oh, no need," he assured her. "Don't worry about it. Jason, I found it. I found what I'm going to buy."

Inwardly, Jason was wondering why the hell he should care. "Yeah?"

"It's a penis statue as big as I am," he informed them seriously. "I'm so getting it for Claudia."

Jason actually smiled at that. "It's just her taste, too."

Johnny snickered at that. "Claudia is my sister," he added for Elizabeth's benefit. "She had a baby a few months ago and now wants to redecorate her house before she and my brother-in-law start trying for a new one. I don't think any kid's house is complete without a giant penis."

Elizabeth nodded slowly, hoping that she wasn't actually expected to say something in response to that. "Uh…"

"Go make the arrangements for it," Jason ordered. "And remember to thank the owner, especially if the photographer is around – I want a picture of you in the society magazines if it's at all possible."

"Got it," Johnny replied, already excusing himself. "It was nice seeing you again, Elizabeth."

"You, too," she replied to his retreating back. "Nice guy."

"He's okay."

"He's your protégé," she reminded him. "Meaning it's his job to turn out just like you, right?"

Jason shrugged, rolling his shoulders to once again ease tension. "Hadn't really thought about it that way. I hope he doesn't plan on being just like me."

"Why not?"

_Because I barely want to be like me,_ he wanted to reply. Instead, all he said was, "Every man should be his own man. There's nothing to be gained if you're just going to copy someone else. Nothing's yours if you do that."

She watched Johnny in silence as he approached the owner and gestured in the direction of the obscene statue. He said something to make the man laugh, and the noise attracted the attention of the photographer who immediately walked over and asked if the two of them would mind posing together. 

There was something to be said for Johnny's effortless charm. He smiled at all the right times, he laughed at all the right times, and he was no stranger to the quick quip. He put people at ease and kept them in rhythm with him, and had such an affable, easy-going way about himself.

No, it was clear that he wasn't turning out just like Jason. She had rarely seen Jason look so genuinely happy to be in the company of other people. Her ex-husband's approach was much different. He exuded confidence, competence, and edge with his appearance, and he knew that. For that reason, he preferred to stay out of the center of the room, flanked by one or two of his closest friends, and let everyone else approach him if they needed to. He never sought anyone out, he never wasted a single syllable, and he was extremely stingy with his smiles.

That was all in public, though. She had seen him behave the way Johnny was one night, but the difference was that she was the only other person in the room. That night at the Greystone, he had been charming and tender and wicked and outgoing all at the same time, and it was wasted on none but her.

That was the Jason she longed to be with, the man with the boyish grin and the confident grace and wickedly glittering eyes that set everything inside of her on fire until she melted away. But he was fleeting, almost evanescent, and subdued by Jason's more public, stoic, and lethal personality. Most of the time, he was hard, terse, impatient with everyone else's abundance of personality, and untouchable.

Her eyes drifted to the large banner draped in the entryway as a means to publicize the most worthy charitable organization being represented, and a lump grew in her throat.

"Jason?"

His eyes flicked to hers with touching alacrity. "Yeah?"

"I designed that banner right there. The one for the Victims of Domestic Violence organization."

Jason looked up at it, not quite sure what to say. Somehow, 'it's nice' didn't seem appropriate. "It's simple. Clear."

Elizabeth traced the outline of a woman's silhouette, waist up, nestled between the broken halves of a heart. "Elton is friends with the woman that runs it, and he put me in touch with her shortly after I moved here. I've done work for them in the past, too. Designing flyers, brochures, that sort of thing."

He didn't know why she was telling him this, but something about the conversation made Jason distinctly uncomfortable. "Oh."

"I think it was Kate that talked to Pat and asked for Neophyte to partner up with them when the gallery opened," she continued. "I think because she knew how important they were to me. She'd been after me for forever to do something with my art, you know. Even offered to help me put together my own showing."

"She's right," Jason murmured. "You shouldn't have to hide your work from everyone. You should be able to put it out there."

Elizabeth paused but didn't quite make eye contact. "…When I found out that Neophyte was supporting VDV, I signed up and delivered my work. A couple of the women on the board were here that day when I brought my sketches in, and I remember how happy they were to see me."

She cleared her throat delicately. "I've worked with them in the past, too, women who are a part of the organization because they were once the kind of women that the organization helped. I've talked to them, I've heard their stories."

That sinking feeling in his stomach grew. "Why are you telling me this?"

She finally faced him and turned bottomless sapphire eyes up to meet his, and in that moment Jason knew exactly what she was going to say…and wanted more than anything for her not to. "Because while we were married, no matter how frustrated you were or how angry I made you, I was never once afraid that you'd do anything to me. Even with your reputation and your, uh, job. And talking to the other women from VDV, I realized that they had all been trapped in marriages just like we were, but they didn't come out of it nearly as well as I did. And I did because no matter how angry you were with me, you always made it a priority to take care of me the best you knew how.

"And I never thanked you for it," she finally got out as moisture pooled at her lower lashes. "It was because of you that I was even able to move out to New York City and live in a relatively safe area. It was because of you that I met Kate in the first place, and it's because of you that I feel safe even when I'm away from you. And I never thanked you for that."

She cleared her throat again and clinked her nails on her glass. "So thank you."

He stared down at her, knowing that there were two ways he could deal with this. He could either smile and say that she was welcome and follow that up with some gallant, gentlemanly quip, or he could go with his instincts and explode at her for even insinuating that he could ever hit a woman, or worse, and all of that.

But before he could settle on either, the gallery owner came up and insinuated himself between them with a request for Elizabeth to come with him and pose for a picture with the young Misters Zacchara and Spinelli, who had just purchased two of her works. And Jason just stood there as she demurely excused herself and walked away.


	26. Something Old, Something New

**25**

Trevor Lansing and Kate Howard's "Post-Engagement Engagement Ball" was shaping up to be quite the party. Everyone who was anyone – a staple phrase in the industry and the upper echelon alike – was in attendance as more and more guests filtered into the Rosebud room at the exclusive Starlight Hotel.

Elton wrapped his arm around Elizabeth's waist and together, they ducked around the corner of the room before they were spotted by the group of _Couture _investors they couldn't stand. "Let's keep at least three stargazer lily arrangements between us and them at all times tonight."

"Agreed," Elizabeth muttered, accepting a crab cake as soon as she and Elton were in the clear. "Man, I am _starving_. When's dinner being served?"

"Eight."

"That late?"

"Afraid so, Cinnabon."

"How bad would it look if I totally went to town on these appetizers?"

"It would be terribly sexy."

She let out a sigh at his droll sarcasm. "But I'm _hungry_. Why's Kate serving dinner so late? Doesn't anyone get hungry anymore?"

"None of us _Couture _folks have alimentary canals, dear," he replied. "Bung-holes are really quite inconvenient if they can't be made to smell like roses."

"…I'm telling Kate you said bung-hole at her Post-Engagement Engagement Ball. Oh, my gosh, I'm so doing it!"

"Don't! Please! I'll be relegated to proofreading the fine print! I hate the fine print!"

"Sneak me into the kitchen, and I'll think about it."

He slid her a sidelong glare but appeared to consider it. "Tell you what, let's find Katie. Maybe she can get us a little something of more sustenance."

They moved as a pair, mingling and smiling and chatting as they went, in order to scout out the blushing bride-to-be. When they got too close to any unsavory types, Elton always grabbed Elizabeth's wrist and steered them away, and before long they had met almost everyone in the room.

"Who were those two? I can never place their faces."

"Cousins of Ric's," Elizabeth replied. "They still live in the same area of Martha's Vineyard where Trevor's old house is. They flew in for the party."

"Well, aren't you taking your bridal party duties seriously?"

She shrugged. "It seems like the least I can do. Kate asked me to join her sister and her cousins on the bride's side, so I could at least make sure I know both family sides. Oh, there's Trevor's ex-wife's brother, Ric's favorite uncle. He's an old war veteran – the kind that actually likes to talk about his experiences."

"Harrowing," Elton shuddered. "Oh, look, there she is. Look at that dress – I picked it out, don't you know."

Elizabeth smiled as they neared their friend. Kate saw them and let out a happy little yelp, and Elizabeth laughed along when she threw her arms around her neck. "I was afraid you weren't going to be able to make it! Did you get your new car?"

She nodded excitedly. "Yeah, I did. Picked it up from the lot, ran straight home, changed, and ran straight here. It drives like a dream, too. There's no need to bother to take it to work since I'm so close, but it'll come in handy on the weekends if I want to go out and do stuff. Anyway, back to you – this is your night, after all."

Kate accepted the praise with a playful shrug of her shoulders. "Yes, it is, isn't it? We were so lucky to get the Rosebud Room – had to kick out a charity fundraiser group for something or other, but that's the way it goes. I just had to have this room. And the decorators followed my instructions to the letter. Everything looks lovely, doesn't it?"

"Just gorgeous," Elizabeth agreed. "You used my idea for stargazer lilies, I noticed."

"I did! Don't they just pull the whole look together?"

"They really do," Elton nodded. "And look at this turn-out. Everyone's here, I just love it. And I've heard so many compliments about your dress that I stopped counting a long time ago."

Kate swirled her skirt around her knees. "I know, isn't it darling? Vera pulled an all-nighter for me and I love her for it. Why, Elton, is that the suit I gave you for your birthday?"

"I was waiting for an occasion special enough to pull it out," he admitted, letting her admire the suit and adjust his tie. "And tonight was it. Oh, and you _must _take a look at what our little Elizabeth is wearing."

Kate studied Elizabeth's dark sapphire dress and tapped her finger thoughtfully to her chin. "Do you know, I've been wondering since I first saw it who it was. It's a very classic look – the sweetheart neckline, full skirt, the mock-pleated look. And I love the corset bodice; it adds a sexy little twist to it, and the color keeps it understated so as not to upstage _me_. It's just lovely, Elizabeth, a lovely creation. Who is it?"

Elton beamed as the woman in question blushed. "It's a Webber original."

Kate wasn't following. "…But her last name is Webber."

His smile grew. "Exactly."

"I don't believe it." The fashion editor gaped at her, then instantly reached out to finger the hem. "I don't believe it! You made this? It's beautiful! Did you make it from a pattern? Whose sketch did you take it from?"

"She made it all on her own! Can you believe it?" Elton could hardly contain his excitement. "She's got notebooks upon notebooks of the most heavenly sketches at her place, Katie, you simply _must _have a look-see. Dresses and skirts and blouses and even little hats! It's all hers!"

"I learned how to sew when I was younger," Elizabeth admitted a touch bashfully. "It was something my Gram taught me how to do, and I kept with it. I thought I'd do something special for your engagement party, so…yeah, I just put this together."

"It's lovely," Kate replied sincerely. "And as soon as this wedding craziness is behind me, we two are going to sit down and you are going to show me all of your sketches, understood?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem. That'd be great."

"Hey-o, sorry for veering off route, but where's Mike Bloomberg?" Elton wanted to know. "I thought he was supposed to be here."

"I just got a call from him five minutes ago; he's on his way."

"So who else is here? I hardly recognize some of these people."

"The ones you don't recognize are probably Trevor's family," Kate told them. "He's got a bunch of relatives flying in for this. We put them up at the Ritz. That's his niece over there in the green frock, and his ex-brother-in-law. Wonderful man."

"And who are those people who just walked in?" Elton asked. All three of them turned to stare at the entrance to the Rosebud Room where an older couple with graying hair, a statuesque blonde, and a tall man with curly dark blonde hair were standing. "I've never seen them before."

Elizabeth let out a little groan. "…Those would be my parents. And my sister and brother."

Elton gaped at her. "Your parental and sibling units? Here?"

Kate nodded and draped her arm sympathetically across her friend's shoulders. "Afraid so. Trevor went to school with Elizabeth's father, Jeff, and they've kept in close touch over the years."

"This should be interesting," he murmured, reaching into his pocket when he felt his phone buzz. "Ooh, sorry about this, dolls, but I have to take this. Back in a bit."

Elizabeth sighed as she watched him hurry toward the balcony. "So much for strength in numbers."

"Oh, it'll be all right," Kate told her. "Just be perfectly sweet and civil and nothing more. They can't do anything to you, after all. You're a grown woman and none of their concern. Geoffrey, Carolyn, hello. Oh, and you must be Steven and…Tara."

Elizabeth carefully suppressed a smile when Kate deliberately called her older sister by the wrong name. Sarah smiled graciously – although a touch icily – and shook Kate's hand.

"It's Sarah, actually. Hello, Lizzie."

"Congratulations, Kate, we're all thrilled for you and Trevor. Lizzie, dear." Her mother leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "It's good to see you again. You must spend time with us while we're here – we'll be flying out Sunday evening."

"Gee, that soon?" Elizabeth feigned. "That's too bad. Hi, Daddy."

He accepted the peck on the cheek and gave her arm an affectionate pat. "Hello, Elizabeth. You're looking very well."

"So are you."

"Trevor tells me that you two have hit it off quite well, and that you're now working at _Couture Magazine_," he continued, smiling when both women nodded. "Good for you."

Elizabeth exchanged a discreet sideways glance with Kate, as if to say, that's the best we'll ever get out of him, before quickly stepping forward and throwing her arms around her brother's neck. "Hi, Steven."

Her brother grinned and hugged her back, almost lifting her up off the floor. He pressed a kiss to her crown and smiled down at her. "Hey, Lizbits. How's everything going for you?"

"Very well," she replied honestly. Of all her family members, she got along best with her grandparents and Steven, and it was very good to see her big brother in person. "How's work?"

"Ben and I are opening up our own private practice this upcoming summer," he answered. "We've still got a lot of work to do. We did find the perfect location, too. Right in downtown Boulder with a lovely view of the river."

"Sounds great," Elizabeth beamed. "Kate, you know my brother, right? He's a pediatrician back in Boulder."

"Of course, I've heard lovely things about you," she smiled, extending her hand. Steven shook it warmly. "I'm so glad all of you could come. Trevor will be thrilled to see you. He's right over there, in fact, if you'd like to say hello."

"We'll do that," Jeff affirmed, holding out his arm for his wife. "Excuse us, please. Elizabeth, we'll see you in a bit."

She smiled tightly and waved as her family withdrew, then let out a relieved sigh and slumped against Kate. "God, I can't stand them. Did you see their faces when my dad commented on the magazine? Ugh. It's medicine or it's a box in the alley with those people. And for future reference, if they ever give you any extremely back-handed compliment about what you do-"

"I'll remember to bottle it up and let it fester into an ulcer just like you do," Kate promised. "Come on, if you're going to face round two with your folks, you're going to need a drink. A stronger one. Let's go see if we can't arrange that."

-----------------------------

_Elsewhere in the Rosebud Room…_

"Aren't you glad we hired a stylist for tonight?" Johnny asked as he eyed the professional photographer that was moving around the room, taking pictures of the guest.

Jason grimaced and tugged at his collar. "Fucking waste of time and money."

"It was not," Spinelli disagreed. "Thanks to him, we're all dressed nicely. We're wearing the right suits in the right cut with the right knots in our tie, and thankfully, none of us are wearing white socks or brown shoes. And looking put together is wicked important when you're attending the Post Engagement Engagement Ball of a fashion editor. Get with it, Stone Cold."

"Smile," Johnny murmured as he and Spinelli moved closer to Jason so that the photographer could snap the picture. Jason resisted but the boys held firm and only released him when the man had moved off to the other guests.

"The hell was that for?"

"Because we need to be seen at this party," Johnny replied, repeating what Jason had told him earlier. "Now stop being such a grump and mingle."

Jason scowled. "I'm not mingling."

"Fine, we'll mingle."

"I don't think that's prudent, Interloper," Spinelli cut in. "With Mister Corinthos Sir at home tending to the Ill Goddess this evening, our Stone Cold will be left standing in the corner, awkward and alone, if we go off to mingle. We have to remain with him."

"Fine, but if you cramp my style with the ladies, I'm gone," Johnny warned, wagging a finger at Jason that the older man was sorely tempted to break off. "Ooh, crab cakes."

Jason rolled his eyes as the boy stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. "Try to act civilized; you're still in training."

"I know," he lamented, "and it's not nearly so fun anymore. I'm running out of ways to piss you off."

"Hey, Stone Cold." Spinelli reached out and repeatedly whacked him on the arm. "Look – look over there. It's Fair Elizabeth! Ooh, and looking most alluring, at that."

"Who's alluring?" Johnny wanted to know as he craned his neck to see her. "Damn. Jason, man, your wife is hot."

He let out a growled sigh but his temper slowly fizzled away when he saw Elizabeth across the room. She was wearing a dark blue dress that hit just at her knees and left her creamy shoulders bare. She had a glass of wine in one hand and Kate's elbow in the other, and the two were whispering and laughing about something.

"She does look most captivating, wouldn't you agree, Stone Cold?"

"Yeah," he murmured, watching her take a small sip of wine and then lick her lips. "She does."

"The wife-to-be doesn't look so bad either," Johnny noted. "Where's Trevor? Time to needle the groom by hitting on his bride."

Jason barely heard him as he studied Elizabeth, but he found his view soon obstructed by a tall blonde and an older pair with matching blonde-gray hair. They clustered around Elizabeth and Kate, joining in the conversation, and Jason noticed Elizabeth's dismayed look when Kate politely excused herself and scurried away.

Her lips were pursed into a pout while the two women talked to each other, and then she appeared to take a moment to point out various other people in the room. Nikolas Cassidine, who was also at the party, offered quick greetings before excusing himself, and he could see Elizabeth sigh as the younger blonde began to prattle on about something. And that was when their eyes met. To her credit, Elizabeth didn't pale this time, and she didn't look as if she wanted to bolt. Instead, she just looked at him from across the room for a long moment that made Jason feel absolutely ten feet tall.

However, that long moment was also enough to attract the attention of all three of her companions, who none-too-subtly turned around and looked his way. The older man seemed to recognize him and turned back to Elizabeth, speaking excitedly, and Jason watched on with a growing pit in his stomach when his ex-wife locked eyes with him again and murmured something in reply to the man standing right next to her. 

This could not be good.

-----------------------------------

"Did you see that? Sarah tried to introduce herself and Mike totally ignored her! Classic!"

"I'm sure he didn't mean to; he honestly didn't see her standing there before he turned to talk to Rudy," Kate whispered as the two women did their best not to laugh out loud. "But thank goodness for small snubs, huh?"

"I'll carry that with me for a long time," Elizabeth sighed happily, leaning against her friend. "For the first time, Sarah's at a party and being given a less than favorable reception. And did you see her face when Mike touched my shoulder? Green with envy."

"It's a nice look for her," her friend mused, giving her a playful bump with her shoulder. "She'd better get used to it."

"Oh, act natural, family at three o'clock," she murmured back. "Be cool, be cool. Hi, Mom, Daddy. Sarah."

"Hello, you three," Kate beamed, once again seamlessly slipping into the role of the perfect hostess. "Having fun?"

"We're having a wonderful time, Kate, thank you," Carolyn Webber replied. "Everything looks beautiful."

"Thank you," she smiled, noticing her fiancé waving to her across the room. "Er, if you'll excuse me, I think Trevor needs me. I'll find you in a bit, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth managed a half-smile but didn't particularly care that her disappointment was obvious. Ugh, how sad was it that she could barely stand to be left alone with the people that created her? "So…"

"I'll never understand how you managed to make friends with these people, Lizzie," Sarah said airily. It was clear that she was insulting her sister, and doing so with feigned lightness. "I mean, for goodness sakes, these are some of the most powerful people in the city. The country, maybe."

Elizabeth shrugged stiffly and responded in kind. After all, if Sarah could be an uptight bitch, so could she. "No maybe about it, these _are _the most powerful people in the country. Those three men right there by the bar are among the President's top aides. That's the CEO of Mastercard there with his next-in-line, there's Nikolas Cassidine, a real Prince from the Grecian Isles."

Sarah's eyes widened and she spun around to stare. "A real prince? You're making that up."

"Nikolas!" She snapped her fingers and smiled when he looked over. Sarah and her parents paled and balked at her poor manners, but the man in question was already joining her and didn't look particularly offended. "Hey, you."

"Elizabeth, it's so good to see you," he replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "It's been months – I haven't seen you since Mike's party. How is everything?"

"Everything's just fine," she smiled sweetly, placing a hand on his arm for effect. Let Sarah eat that and choke. "Oh, let me introduce you. These are my parents, Jeff and Carolyn, and this is my older sister, Sarah. This is Prince Nikolas Cassidine."

His cheeks flushed just slightly as he shook hands all around. "Please, Nikolas is fine. It's nice to meet all of you. I had the pleasure of befriending your daughter during her brief stay in Port Charles."

"And we see each other around Manhattan occasionally," Elizabeth cut in, eager to change the subject. "Nikolas is down in the city for business. How's that going for you?"

"Very well," he answered. "I've been looking into moving the Cassidine headquarters from Greece to New York City, and the outlook seems promising. And if everything works out, we'll probably be running into each other a lot more."

Nikolas smiled one last time at her parents, who had done little more than gape at him, and then at Elizabeth. "Listen, it was great seeing you, but I'm expecting a call from Uncle in about two minutes. If I don't see you later, give me a call sometime. Excuse me."

She smiled as he headed toward the door where he could get better reception. "Yeah, so, that was Prince Cassidine."

Sarah's blue eyes narrowed lethally. "I don't believe it."

"What's not to believe?" Elizabeth asked. "Oh, right behind you, there's Mike Bloomberg. You've already met him tonight, haven't you?"

"I don't think she had the opportunity yet," their mother replied as Sarah fumed. "Who's that fellow over there?"

"Jasper Jacks," Elizabeth replied instantly, waving when Jax looked up at the sound of his name and spotted her. "Corporate financier of some sort. He's engaged to the blonde on his arm."

"That's Chloe Morgan," her mother replied in astonishment. "The fashion designer. Jeff, I have one of her originals!

"I'll be happy to introduce you later." Elizabeth eyed her sister and couldn't help but smirk.

Sarah gritted her teeth. "You're friends with them, too?"

"Not the best of friends, no." Now it was time to move in for the kill; Sarah was going to love this. "But both Jax and Chloe came to my surprise birthday party, and we had a lot of fun."

"That man over there looks so familiar," her father murmured. "I can't help but think I've seen him on the cover of _Forbes _somewhere."

"I'm pretty sure that's Jagger Cates." Elizabeth bit her lip and studied the dark-haired man. "Yeah, that's Jagger, all right. Almost didn't recognize him with his shorter hair. He's the real estate mogul from Chicago. Kate's good friends with his wife, Karen."

"Trevor was saying that a new family was moving to New York," Jeff said when it became clear that his other daughter was close to violence. Sarah had always been the popular one; it was no surprise that she couldn't handle being the wallflower while Elizabeth was the butterfly. "Not a new family, really, but the eldest son. A Mister Zacchara Junior?"

"Johnny Zacchara," she answered instantly. "Yeah, he's taken over some properties and businesses in the area. He's at the party, too. Right over there, in fact. He's the one with the dark hair, not wearing the beanie."

"The Zacchara family is big out in Vegas," her father continued as the Webbers turned to look. "That's why I ask. Every time I head to Nevada for conferences, I hear about their dealings. Oh, there he is. The tall one? Oh, dear. Look who he's standing next to."

Sarah and Carolyn gasped, clearly recognizing the man, and when Elizabeth looked up as well, she knew the evening was all about to go horribly, horribly wrong. Because the man standing next to Johnny was, of course, none other than Jason. She had to admit that he looked devastatingly handsome in his dark suit, but saying that Jason looked devastatingly handsome was redundant. Back when they were married, no matter how angry or upset she was with him, she would have shoved it aside in exchange for jumping him on the spot (if he ever had any real affection for her besides basic human needs, that is).

"That's Jason Morgan," Carolyn breathed, her wide eyes drinking him in as Sarah did the same. "He was named the East Coast's most eligible bachelor!"

"Yes, and in his free time he also manages a thriving coffee company in upstate New York," her father informed them dryly. Typical women – head over heels for a pair of pretty blue eyes. "He's partners with Michael Corinthos, and an absolute entrepreneurial genius. There are rumors that the two of them are a part of the mob, but then again, there are rumors out there that _every _successful businessman is a part of the mob, so…"

"Oh, dear, he's even more handsome in person," Carolyn tittered, taking Sarah's arm and discreetly arranging her so that she was more prominently in Jason's line of vision. "Isn't he? Oh, Lizzie, do you think you could get Kate to make introductions?"

Sarah eyed Jason and then turned to her little sister, her brow arched up so high it practically met her hairline. "Lizzie, he's _staring _at you."

Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot as her mother and father also turned around and peered down at her.

"Lizzie." Her mother's tone was carefully measured. "Do you know that man?"

She troubled her lower lip but found herself unable to tear her eyes from his. "Kind of."

Her father pursed his lips together. "And what do you mean by that, Elizabeth? Who is that man to you?"

Hardly any point in hiding it, even though she had tried to earlier. In fact, her father only had to demand the truth from Trevor, who had carefully hidden the fact or talked around it during his many conversations with Jeff, to know how the two of them were connected. 

"…He's my ex-husband."

"WHAT?!"

Half the room turned around to stare at them and Elizabeth wished that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Kate, Elton, Trevor, and Ric, all of whom were stationed around the room, quickly assessed the situation and did their best to divert attention. In a minute or so, the rest of the partygoers had forgotten about the Webber clan's outburst and were back to the socializing at hand.

"You were married?"

"You were married to _him_?"

"How on earth can you land a man that looks like _that_?!"

Elizabeth eyed her drink, wishing it would magically change from champagne to whiskey. That way, she was going to be out like a light if she had two servings. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

She glared at her mother. "Well, since the two of you couldn't be bothered to come home from Bosnia when I was _ra_-"

"Lizzie, that is not polite conversation-"

"-and since you two didn't even figure out that I ran away to Boston until two weeks after I did it, I decided to save on stamp money and forgo the invitations."

"All right, obviously, there is a lot of tension present here," her father attempted to mediate. "Elizabeth, if you would please give us the story from the beginning? I promise you, we will be a most captive audience."

She let out a deep, cleansing breath and nodded. "I met Jason in Boston. He was there on business and we hit it off immediately. We spent every minute together for days, and then he asked me to marry him."

Sarah eyed the tall, blonde man in the corner, the kind that the phrase "drop-dead freaking gorgeous" was coined for, and let out a little snort. "I don't believe it."

It was her catch phrase for the evening, and Elizabeth barely noticed when her mother glared at Sarah to shut up so that she could continue. "I was shocked that he would ask me that, especially since we hadn't spent a whole long time getting to know each other. But the more he talked about it, the more I understood and the more it just sounded like the right thing to do. So we got married. Sonny Corinthos was the best man, and Brenda was my bridesmaid."

Sarah looked as if she were about to choke. "You mean, Brenda Barrett-Corinthos?"

"Duh," Elizabeth grumbled. "Their son Michael was the ring bearer, and that's how we got married. We were married for almost a year, and for a while everything was wonderful, but…"

"But what, dear?" her father asked gently.

"We couldn't make it work, completely," she finally replied. "There was always a little bit of distance. And it just caught up to us, I guess. We parted ways and that's that."

"I don't believe it," mother and daughter said in unison as they stared across the room at Jason. "I just don't believe it."

Carolyn's expression grew concerned, but rather predictably, the concern was directed at her former son-in-law instead of her daughter who stood not inches away. "Was it an amicable parting?"

"Not really," Elizabeth replied, drawing another astonished look from her sister. "I demanded a divorce for a month or so, and he finally gave in."

Sarah rubbed her hand over her face, momentarily forgetting that she was smudging her perfectly applied makeup. "Lizzie, you are the biggest idiot on the _planet_!"

"Sarah," her father admonished.

"It's true," she insisted. "I don't care if he drags you around by your hair, that is _not _the kind of man that you push out of bed, much less divorce. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I'm sure your sister had her reasons," Carolyn interrupted, although she sounded skeptical. "So the two of you are not on good terms currently, Lizzie?"

She shrugged. "I didn't think we were when we divorced, but I've spoken to him a couple times since and he's been very nice to me. Like he wants to be friends."

"Well, that's something." Her mother looked encouraged. "That's certainly something to build on."

The corner of her father's mouth curved up at the ends. "Jason Morgan was my son-in-law. Excuse me a moment, please."

"Me, too," Carolyn smirked, quickly taking his elbow as Jeff withdrew.

Sarah glared at her little sister and lifted the hem of her gown. "This, I've got to see."

Elizabeth watched as her family descended on Jason, who had figured out what was going on and already steeled himself for it. Reaching out blindly, she pressed her palm to the chest of a passing server. The man let out a cluck but Elizabeth had already spotted the single malt on his tray and snagged it, downing it in one go.

"Thanks, buddy," she said, setting the empty glass down on the tray. "When you get a chance, I'd like another."


	27. Meet The Parents

**26**

Jason now understood beyond the shadow of a doubt why, according to Michael, Elizabeth disliked the Webbers even more than he disliked the Quartermaines.

In the past half-hour, her mother Carolyn had attempted to pry out of him all of the details of his marriage to her daughter right down to what the famous bridesmaid, Brenda Barrett-Corinthos, wore on the infamous day. Her father had remained silent for the most part but his few questions were related more to the business end of things, meaning that Jason had to either get creative to steer it away from the underside of his business, or clam up.

And he was pretty sure Elizabeth's sister, when she wasn't flirting with him, had tried to pinch his ass.

"I'm just so sorry to hear that things didn't end well between you and Lizzie," Sarah was pretending to sympathize. Jason bit the inside of his cheek at her transparent insincerity. It was either that or throttle her, and he couldn't hope to get away with that in a room full of witnesses.

"I'm afraid she just doesn't know how to handle relationships," she sighed. "She's been like that for years. Couldn't even hold on to a single boyfriend in high school."

"I heard that was because you slept with all of them," Johnny interjected with his friendly, disarming grin.

Jason bit back a laugh and didn't quite succeed as Sarah sputtered at his protégé.

"Lizzie was always good at making up stories to escape her reality," she replied archly. "And the reality was that she was just a girl with no idea how to handle a man…and I'm afraid not much has changed."

She batted her lashes up at him and tilted her head just a little to the side. "Especially if she let someone like you get away, Jason. I'm so sorry you had to put up with all of that, but that's just how she is. We've tried with her, but, unfortunately…"

Jason rolled his eyes and carefully extricated himself from the situation. Elizabeth was still standing just a few paces away, a half-empty glass of scotch in her hand, and he was certain that she'd heard every word of Sarah's pathetic rant. They locked eyes but before he could get to her, Jeff stepped in his way.

"A word in private, Jason?"

He gestured to the bar and Jason reluctantly walked with him, eyeing Elizabeth over his shoulder. At the very least, Jeff Webber appeared to possess at least a modicum of sense and so long as they were together, Jason suspected that he would keep his wife and annoying daughter at bay.

"I'm sorry about Sarah," he murmured, surprising Jason. From what he had seen, the older Webber sister got a free ride on everything. "She can come off a little strong, but she meant no harm."

"One beer – bottle's fine," Jason told the bartender. He rested his elbow on the counter and turned to face his ex-father-in-law. "Is there a point to this?"

Jeff had the sense not to take any offense at that. "I asked something of Elizabeth, and she gave me a diplomatic answer that I wasn't particularly satisfied with, so I thought to ask you. And I would appreciate the truth."

Jason's brow lifted, but Jeff received no other expressive cue.

"I want to know why you and my daughter really divorced," he continued after a beat. "I realize that my asking is strange, especially since I wasn't even aware of it when you two married, but I would appreciate an honest answer."

Jason's eyes softened as they flicked momentarily toward his ex-wife where she stood in the middle of the room, downing the rest of her scotch as a sympathetic Kate sidled up next to her.

"Elizabeth and I…"

Jeff waited several seconds, then cocked his head to the side. "Yes?"

He blinked, closing his hand tightly around the bottle that was slid his way only to let it relax seconds later. "Elizabeth and I were very young."

Jeff resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "It was a year ago."

Jason's clear gaze snapped to meet his. "A lot can happen in a year. A lot can change in a year."

It was clear that the older man wasn't following. Jason let out a gruff sigh and took a long pull from his bottle.

"I loved your daughter," he finally said, meeting Jeff's gaze when he did so. The Webber patriarch squared his shoulders at that, and Jason had to believe that it meant something to him that his youngest was cherished that way. "But we were young in the sense that we hadn't known each other a long time. And we couldn't figure out how we fit in each other's lives. In the end, we thought we didn't. So we separated."

They stood together in silence for a long moment before Jeff nodded and slowly extended his hand. "Thank you. It was good meeting you, Jason."

He returned the handshake but not the sentiment, and remained by the bar long after Jeff withdrew and rejoined his wife and grab-happy daughter. Spinelli and Johnny, seeing their mentor finally alone, sidled closer until they flanked him.

"For what it's worth, you held up admirably," Johnny told him, mock-toasting him with his whiskey and Coke. "Meeting the parents is never easy. That's mainly why I never let any relationship progress to the point where that becomes necessary but, hey, to each his own."

"Did her sister try to grab your-"

"Yeah."

Spinelli cringed and took a sip of his orange soda that he was currently drinking out of a martini glass. "Tough break, Stone Cold."

------------------------------

Her family had done nothing but dwell on the subject of Jason Morgan and her failed marriage for the past half-hour, and Elizabeth was close to screaming. And what was worse, they told Steven all about it, and now her stupid brother had decided that despite the fact that he was as white collar as anyone got and had never been in a fistfight in his entire life, he was going to go find this Jason Morgan guy and beat the crap out of him.

"You wanna fight him? You wanna kick the shit out of him?" She grabbed Steven's chin and turned him so that he was staring directly at the tall, broad-shouldered and well-muscled man flanked by two boys at the bar. "That is Jason. That is my ex-husband. He can bench-press 200 lbs., he knows every form of martial arts ever created, and when we were married some man insulted me at a gala and Jason tossed him through a window. You still wanna fight? Go for it."

And with that, she stormed off toward the bar with half a mind to order another scotch. She knew that if she did, though, she'd probably be working her way to being tipsy. She wasn't really much of a drinker – that was Jason, who she had seen downing a glass of scotch every single night before bed back when they were married – and if she kept it up, she'd be in trouble.

"Kiddie cocktail, please," she said to the bartender once she had gotten his attention. Why not? She liked cherry soda.

Jason was still at the other corner of the bar, eyeing her, but Elizabeth found that she didn't quite have the guts to go over there and apologize for her family's behavior. It was probably best not to say anything and just let it be forgotten. It wasn't like her parents or siblings would ever run into him again. 

"Lizzie, dear, there you are." She bit back a groan when her mother appeared at her side. "Your father and I think that you should come back to our hotel room with us. We have a suite at the Ritz. Sarah and Steven are staying in the adjoining one, and we've decided that you should join us."

She took a big gulp of her soda, suddenly wishing it was something much stronger. "Oh, really."

"Yes," Carolyn replied as if it had been a question. "We feel that there is still plenty left to discuss as far as your _marriage _goes and-"

"No, Mom, that's just it, there isn't," Elizabeth shot back. "My life is none of your business. It stopped being any of your business when you and Daddy made it clear that you didn't give a damn. You don't get to pop up and pull the family card or the in-law card and all of a sudden decide that you care just because I happened to marry someone that was rich and powerful."

"Elizabeth-"

"I don't care what you think about my marriage or its dissolution, and no matter how much you talk and talk and talk, that won't change." She shook her head in disbelief. "You know, Daddy said that it was fine, that he wouldn't push it, but it's obvious that neither one of you knows how to leave me the hell alone."

"We only mean-"

"You're only trying to control my life again, but I won't let you. I can't let you. I can and will marry whoever I want, and no, I don't think I'll feel the need to let you both know, and you'll just have to deal with it. Leave me alone, and forget that you ever met Jason, because he wants less to do with you than even I do."

"Elizabeth!"

Spinelli looked as if he wanted to approach the Fair One, but Jason held him back as Elizabeth stormed by. She was heading for the doors when her father casually stepped in her way with a puzzled expression.

"I saw you and your mother having a heated conversation. What on earth was that about?"

Elizabeth glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye and then smiled artificially up at her father, with whom she was also terribly upset. "She said that all her life, you've caused her nothing but pain."

Jeff's jaw dropped and he shot a glare in his wife's direction. "Oh, did she?"

Elizabeth smirked as he went to confront her and spotted Kate a few paces away. She waved apologetically and blew her a kiss, and her friend took one look at the Webbers and seemed to understand. Kate waved in reply as Elizabeth breezed on out the doors and left the Post-Engagement Engagement Ball.

Jason glanced around the room as Spinelli and Johnny snickered and, seeing that no one was paying much attention to him, pushed himself away from the bar counter and followed her out.


	28. They Sell Us Love

**27**

"Elizabeth!"

She only walked faster.

Jason huffed under his breath and broke into a light jog. "Elizabeth, wait!"

He was just about to catch up with her when she turned, and Jason tripped over his feet to avoid knocking her over. Elizabeth yelped and latched onto his arms as he collided with her, but they managed to keep their footing. 

Her dark eyes flew up to meet his, and her expression was pure exasperation. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"

He was just about to reply with something to mollify her when he realized that there was no one else following her. "Where are your guards?"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed but she offered no response.

Jason snarled and narrowed his eyes as well. "Elizabeth. Where are your guards?"

She began to trouble her lower lip. "Well…"

"Elizabeth!"

"Don't get mad!" she warned him, jabbing a finger in his face. "I've had it with people getting mad at me tonight!"

"Then tell me where your guards are and why the hell they're not guarding you!"

She waved her hand carelessly. "I don't know, I might have given them the night off."

"What?!"

"Don't get mad," she repeated, her lower lip sticking out in a pout. "You always get mad. I'm so sick of people getting mad."

Jason's expression didn't soften. "Are you drunk?"

Elizabeth snorted. "No. But I kind of wish I was."

He let out a slow, long sigh and thought for a minute. She wasn't drunk, but she was definitely just a little buzzed, a little loosened up by that scotch he had seen her downing. Arguing with her wouldn't do either of them any good; what he needed to do was stay calm and just reason with her the best he could.

"Why did you give your guards the night off? What were you thinking?"

She actually had the nerve to roll her eyes. "I gave them the night off after they dropped me off at Kate's party because Elton was going to drop me off at my place."

He arched a brow. "And where's Elton now?"

His ex-wife glared ferociously at him, which was actually pretty funny because she was all of 5'2" and trying to be intimidating. "Probably downing a pomegranate martini and telling some woman that he wants to put a dollop of whipped cream on her head and serve her over crumb cake."

Jason fought a smirk and failed. "I thought he was gay."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," she replied instantly. It was a phenomenon that Spinelli called Seinfeld conditioning. "Stop that."

He let out a sigh and gently took her arm, turning them around. "Fine. Since you don't have any guards with you, I'll take you home instead. Let's hail a cab."

"But I can't go home," she replied, resisting his efforts to pull her to the curb. "Not yet. Damn it, stop dragging me. You can't drag me around anymore – we're not married. Stop with the man-handling."

Jason gritted his teeth and stopped pulling, even though he retained a firm grip on her arm. He had learned his lesson after all the times she tried to run away from him. "Why can't you go home yet? What happened?"

"I was going to Benedetti's for pizza," she answered, pointing down the street. "I'm hungry. I can never eat right at these things, anyway. Elton and I normally duck out a little early and find a nice little place to gorge."

Jason's lips pursed into a frown as he stared down the street in the direction she pointed. "Can't you just order pizza from your apartment?"

She glowered up at him, feeling that familiar feeling of wanting to smack him creep up on her. "Yeah, you'd lock me up at my place and put a padlock on the door if you thought you could get away with it."

Jason closed his eyes and let out a slow breath through his nostrils. It was true, he absolutely hated the thought of her being out unnecessarily and without the proper protection, but that didn't mean that he wanted her wrapped in cotton and locked away in a tower. 

"Fine. I'll take you to Benedetti's. How far is it?"

"Eight blocks that way."

Jesus Christ, this woman…

He glanced down at her ridiculous high heels, the ones that would have once sent thoughts of wild, crazy sex running through his head if he hadn't gotten so good (relatively) at suppressing his desire for her. "You sure you can walk that far in those things?"

She arched a brow at him and gave him a perfectly supercilious look. "Of course I can. I'm _Couture_."

"Yeah, whatever the hell that means," he muttered as he slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow.

Elizabeth laughed despite herself and stumbled into him slightly. "Don't worry, I'm wearing moleskin inserts."

"What?"

"Moleskin inserts," she repeated as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "They're little slips that you put on the insides of your really high heels and they make them much more comfortable and easier to get around in. Moleskin, Jason."

He pulled a face. "Sounds disgusting."

"Staple of the industry."

"You sound more and more like Kate every day."

Elizabeth burst out laughing. "Oh, dear God, shoot me when that happens."

The remark made him chuckle. "I thought you liked Kate."

"I do – but that doesn't mean I want to be just like her." Elizabeth snickered and adjusted her hand in his hold. "I love the girl, but she's so uptight and snippy sometimes. I don't think I have it in me to treat people the way she sometimes treats them."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and drew her shoulders in just a little. It was a warm summer night, but the cool breeze still made her a little uncomfortable since she had walked out of the Rosebud Room in just her dress. Elton would make sure to grab her wrap for her; she had checked it in with his coat, anyway. 

"It's kind of why I'm glad with the job I have," she continued. "I get to work on the magazine, I get to handle the photos and supervise the shoots and hang out with models and actresses and singers, but I don't have to do any of the networking and PR stuff that Kate and Elton do. I don't have to worry about what people think of me and how I can make them like me. It was never something I was good at, anyway."

Jason braved a glance down at her. "You weren't bad at it. You had a way of letting people see exactly what they wanted to see in you, and they liked that. But you never did care what they really thought. One of the things I've always liked about you."

The compliment puzzled her. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"But you needed me to put forth a certain image as 'Mrs. Morgan.' How was that any different?"

He couldn't very well come out and say that it was different because he would have loved her no matter how she acted as Mrs. Morgan, so Jason only shrugged. "It just was."

Elizabeth didn't let his ambiguity bother her. "Okay. Whatever. But it's a good thing that I don't have to do any of that anymore. I can barely handle being anyone other than myself. Eighteen years spent living with my family nearly eradicated any sense of self I ever had to begin with."

"Yeah, your family," Jason murmured. "They're…something."

A long moment of silence stretched between them and Elizabeth slowly looked up at him, and Jason was startled when she burst out laughing.

"What?"

"Since when did 'something' become synonymous with 'psycho jerks that get off on terrorizing me'?" she asked, still laughing. "I saw them with you. My mom was drooling over the fact that the great – rich – Jason Morgan was once her son-in-law, my dad was all over you with technical questions, Steven was prowling around you in circles trying to size you up, and Sarah was groping you in public."

Jason blanched. "You saw her do that? And you didn't _say _anything?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "She made the moves on all the men she suspected were interested in me, or vice versa. I've kind of accepted it."

"She was…She better hope that I never run into her again…in a dark alley."

She smiled as they waited for the walk signal to switch on. "Yeah, we've never gotten along. She's always loved to sabotage everything good in my life. It taught me early on to hide how I felt about things. If Sarah didn't know that I was happy, she couldn't ruin it for me."

Jason glanced down at her. "And what did your parents teach you?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "My parents taught me that the only thing worse than a traumatic, ugly divorce is two people who should be divorced but stay together just for the kids, and then spend every single waking moment fighting and resenting each other for not being able to get divorced."

She shook her head as he laced his fingers with hers. "The only happy marriage I've seen in my entire extended family is my grandparents'. Grampa Steve and my Gram Audrey. They've loved each other for fifty years without fail, and even at their age, they still find ways to surprise each other. My parents? Not so much. At their age, they still find ways to start new arguments. Hey, however you can keep it fresh, I guess.

"It spills over into the kids, too, you know. If my father spent too much time with Steven, coaching him, advising him about his career path, taking him around to meet his other doctor pals, then my mom would totally overcompensate with Sarah. Then my dad would fawn over Sarah and scold my mom for coddling Steven. It was exhausting to keep up with."

Jason frowned slightly and squeezed her hand without realizing it. "And what about you? What were they like with you?"

"I was always the black sheep of my family."

He spared her a gentle glance. "I can't imagine you being the black sheep of any family."

"Dream a little with me," she replied dryly. It was highly ironic that he would say something like that, especially when she had considered herself the black sheep of _his _family ever since he'd reluctantly married her. "I was the gangly little kid that never fit in with the popular kids at school, that didn't share the rest of my family's interest in medicine, had no desire to be a debutante, and had no noteworthy talents with which to make my parents proud. Plus, I was the only one that was short and dark-haired; all of them are tall and blonde. I'm probably illegitimate."

Jason balked at that. "Elizabeth."

"What?" she asked innocently. "I've always thought so – since junior high. I just never cared enough to find out for sure because it wouldn't have solved anything – even though being told I'm not a Webber by blood would probably be the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It really wouldn't surprise me if I were illegitimate – the result of one of my father's many trysts or my mother's many not-so-secret affairs. It would explain the disinterest, the resentment I've always dealt with."

She came to a stop in front of a little pizza shop and looked up at the bright neon sign. "Oh. Here we are."

Jason reluctantly let go of her hand as Elizabeth reached for the door and entered. He knew from Michael that Elizabeth didn't get along with her family, but it was never something they had discussed between themselves. He'd occasionally heard her chatting about it with Spinelli, who had his own baggage as far as families went, and that was probably how Johnny had heard of Sarah's promiscuous tendencies. But he'd never initiated any sort of conversation with Elizabeth about it and now found himself regretting it. He had no idea that she carried all of that with her, and it explained a lot in light of their failed marriage.

"Buona sera, Papu." Elizabeth was beaming at a short, balding man who stood behind the counter with random red splotches on his white apron. "How are you?"

"Lizabeth, sweetheart, I am good," he smiled back. "What can I make for you? And for your friend here?"

Elizabeth glanced up at Jason hesitantly. "Uh, Jason, did you want…"

"I'll have whatever you're having."

"Oh." She bit her lip and considered it, and then a devilish little smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "My usual, Papu. And two sodas. And an order of breadsticks with your red sauce. And cannolis for later?"

"Coming right up. You two sit, sit. Play the music, sit."

Elizabeth tapped her nails on the counter and then pushed herself away, selecting a booth in the corner. Jason popped the top two buttons of his shirt and slid in from the other side, glancing cagily around the empty restaurant. It was small, the walls were covered in random Italian and baseball paraphernalia, a dusty jukebox wheezed in the corner, and the forest green tiles were just a little sticky under the soles of his shoes. It was a far cry from Rudd, where he had originally intended to take Elizabeth for dinner, but he supposed it was all right.

"So…"

He could tell she was a little uneasy now that they were sitting face to face with little more to do than stare at each other. It shouldn't have surprised him: even as husband and wife, they hadn't had much practice just sitting and talking.

They alternated between shooting the breeze about the most random, inconsequential things and sitting in awkward silence until the food was ready, and that was when Jason found himself staring down at a gigantic, greasy slice of pizza with little green and yellow things on it.

"The hell is this?"

Elizabeth took a big bite out of hers and shot him a smirky look. "My usual."

He picked the piece up and watched the grease trickle onto the paper plate. "And that is?"

"Pineapple and jalapeño with extra parmesan cheese on top."

"…Great."

"Oh, come on, just try it."

The bells on the door jingled as Jason hesitantly popped a piece of pineapple into his mouth, and the next thing he knew, what he was hoping would be a comfortable dinner alone with his ex-wife was ruined by his sidekick and his protégé.

"Stone Cold! Fair One! How fortuitous!" Spinelli was beaming as he and Johnny burst into Benedetti's. "We never expected finding both of you here."

"Hey, this _is _a surprise," Johnny agreed, shooting his mentor's ex-wife a dimpled grin that made Jason frown. "Elizabeth, it's always good to see you. You look amazing."

She blushed and had the presence of mind to dab the grease from her mouth. "Thank you."

Jason scowled at the boys. "How did you know we were here?"

Spinelli held up his iPhone. Stone Cold. I tracked the GPS in your phone."

The enforcer's scowl grew more menacing. "You said you disabled that."

"I did…but not so that it was inaccessible to even me. That would be like teaching a lion to climb a tree."

Elizabeth wasn't following. "Lions can't climb trees."

"Exactly," Spinelli replied, sliding into the booth with them as Johnny headed to the counter to place an order.

"Don't sit," Jason growled but as usual, he went ignored.

"It's a parable," the boy continued. "The lion approached the cat and asked it to teach it the wisdom of its ways, so the cat taught the lion just about everything it knew. When the lion grew confident in its abilities, it thought to remove the cat permanently to eliminate the competition."

"Sound business technique," Johnny interjected, sliding into the booth so that he was next to Elizabeth. Jason's frown also went ignored. "Or so your Lover Boy over there tells me. But don't worry, Jason, I'd never attempt the same on you. Put that thought completely out of your head. Completely."

"Anyway, the Interloper's veiled threats aside, the cat climbed up the tree where the lion couldn't reach it, and the lion was all, hey, you said you would teach me everything you know, and the feline was like, yeah, but not at my own expense." Spinelli took a big bite out of a breadstick and waved it in the air for emphasis. "So in removing the GPS feature entirely from Stone Cold's phone, I would have taught him how to climb a tree. Sorry, Stone Cold. You remain with both feet on the terra firma."

Jason scowled and pushed his piece of pizza to his left. "Here. You eat this, but get us more napkins first. Johnny, go order me a regular slice. And refill Elizabeth's drink. And for fuck's sake, if you stick straws up your nose again, I swear to God-"

He was interrupted by the sound of Elizabeth giggling behind her napkin. "What?"

"Nothing," she replied with admirably feigned innocence. If he didn't know her so well, he just might have believed her.

"You think this is funny?" he challenged, his twinkling eyes belying his stern tone. "You try handling these two little shits and see how you do."

"Hey," the boys squawked in unison. "We resent that!"

Elizabeth hid a smile as her ex-husband glared. "Just go do what I told you."

She waited until they were both out of earshot before turning back to Jason. "You know, I kind of like having them around."

It was the truth. She considered Spinelli a friend from her days at Harborview because the two of them were about the same age, and Johnny Zacchara was absolutely adorable in his need to flirt with her to needle Jason. And having those two around certainly made it easier to be in Jason's company. She didn't know what she'd do if it was still just the two of them, staring at each other all through dinner.

Jason shot her an exasperated look and reached for the half-eaten breadstick Spinelli had left on his napkin. "You just like it when people bug me and I can't do anything about it."

Elizabeth laughed and threw her hands up in the air. "All right, guilty as charged."


	29. Peanut Gallery

**28**

It had been entirely too long since he'd seen her last.

And Jason couldn't help it: he was desperate to see her again. He was constantly distracted, and his preoccupation was sadly visible to those around him as well. He'd lost count of how many times Spinelli had to discreetly nudge him back to reality during meetings or how often Johnny had cracked jokes at his expense.

It was almost better when he and Elizabeth weren't speaking and instead only randomly spotting each other around town. Because at a distance, he could handle the lack of contact. Now, however, the memory of her was fresh in his mind from that late-night pizza dinner at Benedetti's. He remembered how bright and expressive her eyes were, he remembered the warm, healthy glow of her skin, the texture of her silky hair, the sound of her laugh, the dozens of secret little smiles she had, one for every occasion, the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand.

And he couldn't get her out of his mind.

As if that wasn't bad enough, he kept flashing back to their first true night as husband and wife at the Greystone just before her kidnapping, when there was nothing left between the two of them, no barriers but instead only skin and sweat and the sound of her shallow breathing afterward. He hadn't been able to get enough of her then, either.

He still held his opened but untouched bottle of beer balanced on his knee, passing his thumb over the peeling label, and it had been nearly half an hour since Johnny had offered it to him in the first place. They were at his place in Johnny's massive entertainment room, and the boys were playing Counter Strike or Halo or one of those video games that mimicked the realities of his own profession far too much for him to find any amusement or recreation in it.

But if Jason was preoccupied, then so were the two young men he had no choice but to count as his closest friends for the past several months. And they were preoccupied with him, and that was never a good thing.

"…Stone Cold?"

He didn't hear him.

"Stone Cold!"

Jason glanced over in annoyance. "What?"

"You hungry? The Interloper and I were about to order pizza. Pineapple and jalapeño."

"The little wife turned us on to it," Johnny added, rapidly jabbing the red button on his controller as little CGI men fell to their knees in a shallow pool of blood. "Hey, get the cheesy bread, too. And tell them to send extra parmesan cheese and crushed red peppers."

"Why don't you order it?"

"Because I'm playing."

"So am I!"

"But I'm winning," he corrected. "How about it, Jason? You in?"

He lifted a shoulder in reply. "Fine. Order me one without any of that stuff on it."

"You are so white bread," Johnny muttered, drawing a horrified squawk from Spinelli as he slew his character. "There. I win because you have no player anymore. And that's why you have to go order."

He was grumbling as he climbed to his feet. "Fine. Lousy thin-skinned non-bullet-impervious CGI combat fighters…"

Johnny glanced up at his mentor as Spinelli scrounged around for his cell phone. "Hey, Jason."

He only barely heard him. "What?"

"You want me to get you another beer?" he offered, gesturing to the bottle he held. "That one's gotta be flat by now."

"I'm fine."

"Oh. You, uh, wanna play a round?"

"When have I ever wanted to play a round?"

"Good point," he muttered. "Do you, er, have anything you need me to take care of today?"

Jason shook his head. "No."

A long silence stretched between them until Johnny threw his hands up in the air. "Okay, are you pissed off at me or something? Because if you are, I'd much rather you yelled at me or knocked me around instead of zoning out like this. Is this about that lunch date I had with Elizabeth? Because I promise, nothing happened."

Jason stared at him. "What?"

"I had a taste for Mexican food so I went down to the grill but all the tables and booths were taken," he defended himself. "She was sitting alone and invited me to join her and we just ate, that was it. I mean, I know I flirt with her every chance I get but that's just to razz you – I'd never actually do anything about it. You don't try to bed your friend's wife; it's just common sense and decency."

Jason closed his eyes. "I don't care if you talk to her, Johnny."

"Okay, good. Because, just for the record, I'd never want to dip my wick in your well anyway, so to speak."

The corner of his mouth curled downward. "Just shut the fuck up."

"Seriously, Jason, what's got you all pissed off?"

"Stone Cold is missing his Fair One," Spinelli interjected sagely. His mentor's eyes remained closed and he didn't dignify the boy's remark. "Her presence soothes the savage beast, and without her calming light-"

"Knock it off, Spinelli."

"I was just trying to be poetic," he mumbled, flopping down on one of the overstuffed armchairs. "Food'll be here in half an hour. Maybe that will cheer our Stone Cold up. Nothing else has."

"Her presence _soothes _him?" Johnny repeated with a puzzled look. "I thought you said he was angry all the time when they were married."

"Dude, when is he _not _angry all the time?"

"Good point."

He was going to kill them. He was going to kill them both and drop their barely-pubescent bodies in the harbor. And then maybe he'd do a little dance. There was always a slight possibility.

"But, seriously, I think our Stone Cold has matured into…only slightly sub-par boyfriend material," Spinelli got out, cringing as if he expected Jason to leap up and throttle him for that remark. "He's not _as _angry all the time anymore."

"Personally, I credit us with that," Johnny announced as Jason struggled to keep his eyes closed and ignore them. "We broke his spirit. His angry, violent spirit. I'm actually kind of proud of us."

"And we've been doing a good job of keeping him away from the fermented beverages," Spinelli pointed out. "Around the time of the infamous D-Day-"

"D-Day?"

"Divorce Day," he whispered loudly. Jason cringed. "Around that time, I sneaked into his penthouse and cleaned out his wet bar and gave it all to the Goddess. She hid it under the floorboards where she and the Little Mister Corinthos Sir keep their chocolate."

"Why not just pour it down the drain?"

Spinelli balked. "Are you kidding? He had single-malts older than _I_ am."

Johnny nodded sagely. "Got it. You can't throw away liquor like that and live with yourself afterward."

"Exactly," he replied. "And since then, he's been imbibing less. And that's a good sign."

"He get liquored up a lot around the little missus?"

"According to the Fair One, Stone Cold needed a glass of something stiff every night before they went to bed."

Jason winced at that. The only reason for that was so that nothing _else _got stiff when he and his wife went to bed. But of course, he'd have taken out his gun and shot himself twice in the head before admitting that to the boys. They'd never let him live it down.

"Her father and brother aren't big drinkers," Spinelli was saying. "Her dad's a surgeon and her brother's a pediatrician; they were always careful to stay away from the spirits and indulged them only on special occasions. So the Webbers never had much liquor in the house…except for her mother, who hid wine everywhere and would often be falling down drunk at eleven o'clock in the morning while her dad was at the office."

"Charming."

"And the Webbers are all pretty soft-spoken, too, in general," he added. "They can be shrill at times, but normally when they're having one of their spats, they go about it the passive-aggressive, back-handed remarks kind of way. So Elizabeth didn't get yelled at much as a kid and never did any yelling herself, a communication style drastically different than the one Mister Corinthos Sir and our Stone Cold are used to."

"Hell, I've heard Michael hollering for his dad to come get the phone when I call in sometimes," Johnny said. "Even that little kid's got a pair of lungs in him."

"Mister Corinthos Sir says he gets it from his mother."

"Ah."

"So anyway, that was why the Fair One found herself a little out of sorts when she joined our Harborview family." Spinelli shrugged and swapped his phone from hand to hand, idly playing with it. "And Stone Cold's anger scared her sometimes, but I do remember that she had her own way of calming him down. It was fascinating to watch. Like those animal specials on Animal Planet."

Jason groaned. Great. Now he was being compared to fucking lions or hippos or orangutans or whatever the hell else kind of animal made regular cameos on that station.

And just when he was contemplating getting up and schooling those two little shits that loved nothing more than to talk about him like he wasn't even in the room, something hit him on the shin. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he saw it was the bottle cap from Johnny's beer.

"Jason." Johnny arched a brow and actually looked serious for once. "Look, if he's right and you're once again miserable because you're thinking about the little wife, then you need to put an end to it. For your own good. And of course for ours, because we kind of rely on you to be at the top of your game, which you can't be if you're mooning over her."

Jason scowled at him. "Yeah? And what the fuck do you know, y-"

"Go see her."

He stopped. "…What?"

"Go see her," Johnny repeated as Spinelli nodded along. "What's the point of staying away if you're driving yourself crazy doing it? Go see her and tell her how you feel and put it all out there. At least then you'll know where you stand."

"And that's what you always tell us to do," Spinelli added. "You say that if we ever have a personal problem that is affecting business, we have to take care of it first rather than put it off at the expense of our work, which will surely suffer. So go see the Fair One."

"I don't think she'd lock the door on you and call the cops," Johnny pointed out. "Because if her mood while we were talking over lunch was any indication, she wouldn't be averse to seeing you again."

"Do it, Stone Cold."

"Look, if you get up now and walk out of here without another word to go see Elizabeth and lay it down, then Spin and I will forget this ever happened and we promise to never say 'I told you so' or tease you about it afterwards."

He stared at them for a long moment, deliberating over whether or not to believe them because they had never yet missed an opportunity to tease him about anything, and finally decided, the hell with it.

Johnny smirked as he watched his mentor hop up from the couch, grab his leather jacket, and head out of the room. He reached for a deck of playing cards and motioned Spinelli to sit on the floor for another game.

"Sweet. More food for us."

Spinelli took the cards from him and cut the deck to shuffle it. "You said it."


	30. Elusive

**29**

Jason stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket as he stared at her door. This was the second time he'd stood here. The first time was, of course, when he had taken her home after their dinner at Benedetti's. Elizabeth had insisted that there was no need for him to walk her all the way up. The complex had excellent security, she said, and there was no reason to worry.

She had been uneasy as they walked down the hallway. Johnny and Spinelli were downstairs waiting in one of Johnny's cars, so it was just the two of them. She had played with her keys and twisted them around and around in her hands, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was agonizing about whether or not to invite him in when it was obvious she didn't want to. So in the end, Jason made it easy for her and excused himself, pleading the boys and business, as soon as she unlocked her door. Elizabeth had given him a small, relieved smile and waved her goodbye, and that had been that.

And now here he was, staring at her door again.

He used to stare at her door before when they were married, too. That had been when she occupied the guest bedroom. Sometimes after putting all of his work away and brushing his teeth, he'd wander out into the hall, presumably to make sure nothing was amiss in his office, and just stand outside her door and stare at it.

During the early days of their marriage, he had stared at her door and wondered how the hell he got himself into this mess. One day his life was just as he wanted it and then the next he was married to a woman that jumped at his every word and looked like she wanted nothing more than to flee when he entered the room.

That had changed after a while, before she ran away to New York the first time. That was when he would stand in the hall and stare at her door and wonder just how he could insinuate himself on the other side without scaring either of them. There was something more there, that was what he was on the way to learning. There was something worth having on the other side of the door, but he could never bring himself to reach out and enter. 

So he would stand and stare.

After he and the guards found her in New York City and brought her home, that was when they started sleeping in the same room. As it turned out, word had gotten out about how the young Mrs. Morgan fled her marital home and resisted being found, and it was enough to make Don Sandoval and Don Sorel very suspicious. Spinelli was the one who picked up the news from Croscetti, the 'nerd' belonging to one of the other Families, that there was even talk of putting surveillance on the Morgan house at Harborview.

Upon hearing that, Jason had shoved Spinelli out of his house, marched into his wife's bedroom where she was sleeping, and carried her into theirs. Elizabeth had woken the next morning wrapped up in his arms and because she felt so guilty about making things difficult for Sonny and the business, she hadn't resisted him. They slept in the same room at night until she was kidnapped and returned, and they had divorced not long after that.

And now he was back to standing right outside her door and staring at it, wondering if she'd let him in and then wondering if he even had the guts to try.

With Kate's advice about being gentle repeating over and over in his head, he reached out and knocked, then stood back and shoved his hands back into his pockets. Jason waited to hear sounds inside, like her getting up to answer the door, but there was nothing. So he knocked again and made sure he was standing right in front of the view hole.

Sure enough, he heard footsteps and the sound of weight against the door. She was probably rising on her toes to see who it was. A few tense seconds, and then he heard the sound of the lock being undone.

Elizabeth opened the door a crack, then pulled it halfway open without stepping into the hallway. He instinctively sucked in his breath and took a step back, knowing that this had been a bad idea the second he saw what she was wearing. Why the hell would she answer the door dressed a tight tank top and shorts under a black silk robe? He could have been any old pervert ready to assault her.

The fact that he practically _was _ready to assault her didn't sit well with him, either.

"Jason?" Her brows pulled together. "What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is? Did something happen? Oh, my God: are Sonny and Brenda okay? What about Michael?"

"Everyone's fine," he croaked. "Everyone's fine, nothing happened."

She slumped against the doorjamb in relief. "Oh, thank God. Don't scare me like that! Every time I see you, I keep bracing myself for the worst."

Okay, she probably didn't mean that the way it sounded.

"So…what do you want?"

He licked his lips and looked directly in her eyes. "I want to see you."

Elizabeth waited a few seconds, but there didn't seem to be anything coming after that. "…What do you mean?"

Jason took a step closer and leaned his shoulder against the threshold of the door. "I mean, I want to see you. Again. Soon."

His ex-wife's lips parted and he could see her turn two shades paler right in front of him as she struggled to grasp his meaning. "You mean…"

"Yes."

"But…" Her eyes darted back and forth as if looking for an escape. "Why?"

This time it was Jason's turn to be confused. "I need a reason?"

"Yes!" she burst out. "I mean, no. I mean, I don't know."

He arched a brow.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "I mean, why on earth would you want to see me?"

It was the dumbest question he'd ever heard, and Jason responded with the dumbest answer he'd ever given. "Because I like you."

Oh, dear God. 

Fortunately, Elizabeth was too caught up in her own confusion, disbelief, and mild panic to realize how truly inane his answer was. "But I – but you – but we – Why are you here?"

Memories of their futile marriage came rushing back to him – and not the few good ones, either. "Because I want to see you."

"Like, right now?"

"Like all the time," he replied softly. "But I'll settle for whenever you're free."

She felt the bile rise in her throat. Oh, no, he couldn't mean…it was too soon. They'd only just gotten divorced a little more than half a year ago. And he wanted to reopen those wounds? In a new city, in a new environment? When she was supposed to have already embarked on her new life post-Jason Morgan?

"I…"

"I just want to be with you," Jason interrupted. "Here, at my place, in Port Charles, on another continent, I don't care. I can't stay away from you."

Her eyes softened. "Oh, Jason…"

He leaned forward, hearing her breath hitch, knowing from experience and the very few chick movies he had sat through for his ex-wife that this was the point where the protagonist's desires would be fulfilled, where the climax was poised to occur, where all the loose ends would be resolved, where she would realize the clarity of his intentions and the ramifications for their future.

"…No."


	31. Carpe Dame

**30**

Johnny and Spinelli had gotten word that their mentor returned not too long ago, and the boys let themselves into his apartment suite one floor below Johnny's to find him sprawled out on his couch with his feet up, shoes off, eyes closed, and thankfully no hard liquor in sight.

Johnny edged closer as Spinelli continued to look around the room for scotch, Stone Cold's favorite anti-depressant that only made him more depressed in the end.

"So, uh, you're back."

Jason mumbled something incoherent and draped his arm over his eyes.

"We thought you'd, you know, take off for a bit," he continued. "You know, spend the night not here."

"Or maybe Stone Cold has finished up his amorous business and returned to his place because he wants to take things slow with the Fair One?" Spinelli guessed hopefully.

Jason growled and kept his eyes covered.

"Okay, man, what happened?" Johnny demanded. "Did you go see Elizabeth?"

"Yeah."

It was the first word they got out of him and both boys were pleased with the progress.

"So? Did you tell her that she was the only bee in your bonnet?"

Johnny biffed Spinelli upside the back of his head. "What he means is, did you tell her that you wanted to start seeing her again?"

"Yeah."

"And?" the boys asked in unison.

"She said no."

Spinelli and Johnny stared down at him, not fully comprehending that. "…What?"

"She said no."

"But – But you're Stone Cold," Spinelli replied, his confusion evident. "And you care for her and the two of you have history together and-"

"And you're a stand-up, dependable guy," Johnny agreed, "which is why men prefer to do business with you and guys like me look up to you and women freaking paw you down, and why this one wants to marry you so damn bad."

This time it was Spinelli's turn to slap him upside the back of the head. "Shut up, Interloper, I do not want to marry him. Maybe a homo-social coexistence, but nothing else."

"Why'd she say no?" Johnny asked, ignoring his friend. "Come on, Jason, work with us here."

"She just said no."

"She didn't give any reasons?"

He remained silent.

Johnny let out a frustrated sigh. "So she actually said no. Point blank."

"Yeah."

"As in no way in hell, no."

"Yeah."

He planted his hands on his hips and let out a short breath through his nose. "…Then you don't need her."

Jason's fingers twitched.

"It pains the Jackal to say this, but he agrees with the Interloper." Spinelli pressed his lips into a thin red line. "I know it wasn't the answer you were hoping for, but at least now you know once and for all. And maybe now you and the woman formerly known as the Fair One can truly move on with your lives and be better, stronger people for it."

"Yeah. Sorry about it all the same, though. I know you loved her."

Jason rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Yeah. Fine. Listen, just go to your rooms and go to sleep. I need you both up early tomorrow morning. We have a lot of work to do, and I want to get it all done before I go back to Port Charles this weekend. Can you do that?"

Spinelli and Johnny exchanged glances and nodded, even though Jason wasn't looking at them. "Yeah, sure, Stone Cold."

"Good," Jason grumbled as he turned over onto his side. "Set your alarms for six."

Johnny glanced over his shoulder as he and Spinelli left the room. "He'll be fine, right?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. He's Stone Cold – nothing gets him down and keeps him there for too long. And this is probably just what he needed to finally get over his unrequited feelings for the Fair One."

-----------------------------

Elizabeth Webber hadn't slept a wink all night.

She just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing Jason's voice in her head. _I want to see you. All the time. I just want to be with you._

Those were the most beautiful things he had ever said to her, but amazingly enough, she found herself wondering if she could believe him. Him – the man that never once lied to her, the man that always told the truth even if it was to his own detriment. She had looked him directly in the eyes when he said those beautiful things and wondered if she could believe that he meant them.

There was no way he could actually want her. It was the same thing she had thought even when he proved to her that he _did _want her – even if it was for that one night only when he taught her how to shoot his gun and then repeated the lesson a whole different way. She had said it once to Brenda and she still held firm: Men like Jason Morgan did not look twice at girls like her. He was the kind of man she could never hope to land except by freak accident: a bump on the head, an unplanned pregnancy, or, of course, the ever-popular marriage of convenience.

They were mismatched in every way, and she had thought that equilibrium had finally been restored when they divorced and he was free to date beautiful, tough-as-nails women like Samantha McCall and she was back to her relatively solitary existence.

But every time she turned around, there he was, like he was haunting her steps. She thought it bad luck at first, then didn't quite know what to think of it when he started showing up because it looked as if he actually wanted to.

She had been awful to him. He had been awful to her, too, but still. They hurt each other terribly and what was worse, it was as if neither one had known how to stop. They had their moments, their silver linings, their moments of peace in the storm like when he danced with her at her birthday party or when he made love to her and promised to make her breakfast in the morning, and of course when he just held her in his arms on the long car ride home after Manny Ruiz had kidnapped her the second time.

Things had gotten so ugly and so out of hand around the time of their divorce. She wasn't sure that she could ever look at him again, much less want to. She had all but fled Harborview Towers and fought so incredibly hard to distance herself from him and forget all about him because it was the only way to retain her sanity, and then he showed up at her door and said all of those beautiful things to her and she was so terribly afraid of falling right back into old patterns and bad habits with him.

_I want to see you. I just want to be with you._

There was no way he could mean that. He couldn't stand her, and they spent most of their marriage fighting or living in stony silence. How could he come to her and say those things now? And how come she couldn't get his words out of her head?

Maybe this was it, though. Maybe this was what they both needed in the end. She needed to stand firm in her convictions and do what she knew was right for herself. After all, she had moved to Manhattan because it was someplace she had never been to before and she was more than ready to embark on her fancy new life as the fancy new Elizabeth once-again-Webber in fancy New York City. Free, independent, and loving every minute of it.

And Jason…Jason was a man used to getting what he wanted. He was the kind of man that wore his power and his desires well. He didn't like to compromise and he didn't like to fail, and he didn't like the thought of their failed marriage because it was like a blemish on the cold, clean, hard record of his life. So maybe he had just convinced himself that he actually felt something for her and that he needed to get her back because it would clear that blemish, that mark of imperfection, away for good.

Hopefully, her tactless reply born more of terror than malice had helped him regain the focus she had unfortunately caused him to lose.

Yes, this was the best for both of them.

-------------------------------

He was a hypocrite.

He was a complete and total hypocrite.

Jason almost laughed at himself as he lathered up his shaving cream in front of the mirror and began spreading it on his jaw, chin, and cheekbones. It was six o'clock, meaning that the boys were probably getting up right now if they had actually listened to him for once and set their alarms like they were supposed to. If they were up, that meant that they had probably also received his message telling them to take it easy and that he'd join them for breakfast in an hour or so.

And that meant that they'd probably be bursting into his bedroom in about five minutes wondering just what the hell was up.

Jason narrowed his eyes at his reflection and, his jaw still covered in white foam, strode over to his bedroom door and locked it.

That was better.

Because there was no way in hell that he was going to answer their stupid questions, and there was no way in hell that he was going to admit to them that he had been a total hypocrite the night before.

Ever since he took Johnny on as his protégé and began teaching him how to do business in America, he told him to be persistent and not to let things get him down. Their world was full of disappointment and heartbreak already; no sense in adding to it. If he wanted something, he needed to do everything in his power to get it before he was willing to accept the final rejection.

And six hours later, Jason finally remembered his own advice, along with the fact that he would be better off taking it himself as well.

He lopped off the last of the shaving cream, rinsed his razor, and toweled off. It took him mere minutes to change into his jeans, a t-shirt, and his omni-present leather jacket, and that was when he quietly unlocked the bedroom door and, hearing the sound of Spinelli showering in the main bathroom, slipped out the door.

There was no way he was going to let Elizabeth go that easily. Not again.

------------------------

Elizabeth groaned when her alarm went off and turned over her on her side, slapping the thing hard with her palm to get it to stop that damn buzzing.

She had tossed and turned all night long and now she had run out the clock. It was to be another early day at _Couture _spent in preparation of their afternoon cover shoot. She had neglected her laundry the day before and would probably only find extremely mismatched things to wear, she was out of milk, and that bitch Angela was sure to bust her hump all day for no good reason other than jealousy over which _Couture _staff member was selected to be an extra in the shoot. Really, was it her fault that she had flawless skin and expressive eyes, and that the dress was cut for a petite girl instead of a tall, lanky one? Besides, she would be way in the background, anyway. Jesus Christ.

She spent an extra-long time in the shower absorbing the heat and letting the water pressure work the kinks out of her shoulders and back. After that, it was time to scrounge around in her closet for something acceptable for work while she let her hair half-air dry, and then she had to dry it using her hot air brush to make it all wavy the way she liked it.

And because she had done all that, there wasn't any time to sit at home and eat breakfast; instead, she grabbed her yogurt, tossed some granola into a Ziploc baggie, and wrapped up her bagel. And then it was time to head out the door.

Except, of course, for the fact that there was someone currently _at _her door.

"You've got to be kidding me," she groused, picking up her black pumps and walking with them down the hall. She stopped at the front door, slipped them on, and turned the knob. "Yes? Oh!"

Her ex-husband stood leaning against the doorjamb, looking remarkably put together and at ease for so early in the morning.

"Jason!" Elizabeth gaped at him, finding it hard to adjust to his flesh-and-blood persona after she had just spent the whole night thinking about him. "Er…what are you doing here?"

His expression gave nothing away. "I did it all wrong."

She blinked. "What?"

"Last night," he explained. "I did everything wrong."

Last night? When he told her all those beautiful things? Did he mean that he didn't mean them and that he took them back?

"N-No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did," he replied softly. "I took no as an answer."

Her lips parted in surprise. "What?"

Jason leaned closer, reminding her of a cat toying with a cornered mouse. "You said no and I left. That was my mistake."

Oh, dear God.

Elizabeth shook her head from side to side, slower at first and then more frantically. "N-No, Jason, there wasn't any mistake. I-I-" She moistened her dry lips. "I can't do this again."

"But you wouldn't be doing it again," he informed her lazily, his hooded eyes resting solely on her as hers darted nervously around. "We've never done this before."

"But we were together and-"

"Not really," Jason disagreed. "It was you and it was me, but we were never really together. Except for that one night."

She swallowed roughly, unable to keep the memories of their only night from rushing back. "We already tried this, Jason. And we both agreed that we don't work together."

"That was because we were working so hard at it." He shook his head once. "Being with someone shouldn't be work, Elizabeth. And if you do this again with me, it won't be."

"Jason." Her shimmering eyes pleaded with him not to resurrect the pain of their past. "You don't know what you're asking. Of me, of yourself."

The corners of his mouth tightened. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"But-"

"I meant what I said, Elizabeth," he told her in a low, gravely voice. "I want to see you. All the time. I want always to be with you."

Moisture pooled in her eyes and fringed her lashes. "I-I don't know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything, except yes." Piercing cerulean bore into hers. "I tried to avoid you in Manhattan. I really did. But I kept running into you, and it just reminded me of all the things that went wrong when we were married."

She was slowly shaking her head again. "That's in the past. We don't have to worry about it or obsess over it anymore. I-It's over and done."

Jason shook his head. "You're wrong. Because not a single day passes where I don't think about you, and wonder how you are and what you're doing. And I want to see you again." He swallowed and averted his gaze for the first time since they started talking. "If you're not seeing someone else."

"No," she got out. "There's no one else."

He replied with a cocky tilt of his head. "Then there's no reason for you not to be with me."

Elizabeth felt her stomach clench painfully. "Except for the fact that we're not good together."

"We don't know how we are together," Jason reminded her logically. "Because we've never actually tried."

"But we were-"

"I know that we were married," he cut in tersely. "It's not like I could forget."

She winced visibly, and Jason sucked in a quick breath and mentally kicked himself. The best way to get her to see that they should give this another shot was decidedly _not _to make her cry by being an ass.

"But there was always someone else in that marriage," he reminded her softly. "Usually…everyone else."

Elizabeth managed a small smile at that. "Yeah. It did feel like we were performing seals half the time."

"And there's no reason it has to be like that this time. No one has to know." He leaned just a little closer. "It'll be our secret."

She could feel herself being pulled in. "H-How can we keep it a secret?"

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "We'll find a way. But first you have to say yes."

Elizabeth let out a tremulous breath. "Jason, I just don't know-"

"Listen to me," he interrupted, but only because it seemed that every time he did so, she ended up giving in just an inch. "I wouldn't be here, asking you this _again_, if I didn't think that we could do this and be happy."

Her expression softened at that, and he forged on. "Elizabeth, sometimes I think that I know you better than anyone. Even Brenda, or Kate, and you actually like them."

His eyes twinkled when she actually smiled at that. "I know what makes you smile, I know what makes you laugh, I know what makes you happy…but I also know what makes you cry, and what makes you afraid, and what gets under your skin and gets you fired up. I know all of that, the good and the bad."

Jason's eyes drifted over her, as if he were drinking her in. "And I think you know the good and the bad about me, too."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I do."

"So give it another chance," he replied softly. "Let me see you."

Wide, deep eyes peered up at him. "…Like when are you talking about-"

His answer was swift and instinctive. "Tonight."

She answered with a small smile and just a hint of laughter in her eyes. "I have a photo shoot with Nicole Kidman – I'm busy tonight."

Jason arched a brow arrogantly. "Tomorrow night."

Elizabeth's smile grew. "I'm working late tomorrow night, too. Nicole's pregnant, which means she has to lay off the Botox, which means the photos are going to be stalled in the Graphic Retouching Division while the guys smooth out all her wrinkles."

He squinted at her. "Doesn't anyone age naturally anymore?"

She shook her head, grinning. "Not in this industry."

"Wednesday night."

"I promised Kate I'd help her pick place settings for the wedding."

"Fine. Thursday night."

This time, it was her turn to arch a brow at him. "Are _you _free Thursday night?"

Jason thought about it and cursed under his breath. "Fine. Friday night."

Elizabeth thought about it as well. She didn't have anything going on, which was unusual for her on a Friday night, but maybe that was a sign in and of itself. "Well…"

Jason smirked, knowing he had won, and lifted his other hand which he kept behind his back this whole time. "I brought you something. One of those pumpkin whatever things you drink."

She eyed the latte and then her ex-husband. "Is that part of your pitch? Bribery? Gotta find the proper way to end?"

He passed it to her with a secret smile and shook his head. "So pessimistic," he murmured, pushing himself away from her door. He stepped back and turned, giving her a sidelong smirk. "Think of it as the proper way to start."

Elizabeth's grip tightened around the cardboard cup as she watched him walk away, his gait loose, free, and long. "Jason?"

"Friday night," he called out, looking at her over his shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time."


	32. Inexpensive Wine and Cordon Bleu

**31**

His plan was ingenious.

He told Johnny and Spinelli that he was going to go for a bike ride since it was a warm night, and that they better not get into any trouble. He spent fifteen minutes outlining his rules and expectations, along with the threats that accompanied each item: no excessive drinking, no women, no parties, no more food ordered in (since they had plenty in the fridge already), no loud music (mind the neighbors), and no all-night video game tournaments because he wanted them in bed at a reasonable hour.

That, of course, meant that the boys would be occupied for several hours with booze, girls, pizzas from down the street, music, dancing, and video game tournaments.

Brilliance.

He cleared his throat as he stood at Elizabeth's door and finally reached up and knocked. He immediately heard something crash inside, then muffled words as if the lone occupant were talking to herself, and then a dull thud as someone raced to the door.

It flew open to reveal his ex-wife, who looked a little more panicked than she usually did when she saw him.

"You're early!"

He glanced at his watch. "Only five minutes."

Elizabeth glared at him but let him in anyway and kicked the door shut behind him with her bare foot. "Well, you might as well come on in. I was trying to clean up, but…"

"It's fine," Jason assured her, taking a cursory look around her cozy loft. "Looks a lot cleaner than my penthouse used to."

She resisted the urge to sock him in the arm as she peeled his leather jacket off his shoulders and went to hang it in the hall closet. "Funny man. For your information, this place looks a lot more lived in than your penthouse used to."

He allowed her the snipe with a little smile, then rubbed his palms together. "So…"

Elizabeth bit her lip and began to wring her hands together. Apparently they both had a fixation with their upper limbs when they didn't have a clue what to say. "So…Anyone follow you?"

Jason shook his head. "Nope. I told you we'd keep this secret. I took the service elevator up just to be safe."

She nodded in appreciation. "Thanks. It's probably safer this way, huh?"

"Yeah. We don't need anyone else knowing that we're doing this." This time, there would be no one else in their relationship, whereas before it had been everyone else. "This is just ours."

Elizabeth seemed to soften at that, which he took as a good sign. "Okay. Great. So…"

Jason shifted his weight from foot to foot, then swept another look around her apartment which apparently gave Elizabeth an idea.

"Oh! Let me show you around. I forgot, you've never actually been inside before."

She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen. "This is my kitchen. This is where I cook."

Jason eyed her sideways. "You mean where you warm up water for your Ramen noodles?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "…Yeah."

"Ah."

"There's food in the fridge if you're hungry, though," she felt compelled to add, even opening the door so that he could see for himself. "It's mostly takeout. And brownies. Normal brownies," she added when his eyes narrowed. "Promise."

Jason closed his eyes, remembering how high he'd gotten the last time – the first time – when Spinelli and Elizabeth had pushed pot-brownies on him without telling him of the secret ingredient. It made for an interesting dinner that night with Spinelli, his wife, his nephew, and Sonny and Brenda, and it was something his best friend never let him live down, especially when Jason commented that Michael shouldn't be afraid of the Count on Sesame Street because even if he did come alive and step out of the television, he'd only want his calculator, not his blood. And also that the manicotti reminded him of bloody monster toes. (Michael really dug into his dinner after that remark, and especially after Jason commented that the parmesan cheese crumbles looked like maggots, which happened just before Sonny threw his napkin at him and demanded to know what he was on.)

"Oh, come on, it was funny." One look at her face told him that Elizabeth knew exactly what he was thinking about. "It was so freaking funny."

Jason rolled his eyes. "It was awful. I got sick afterwards."

She smiled, remembering how he spent the next hour in the bathroom bringing up his dinner. "You just have a delicate constitution. Sensitive."

He groaned and gestured to the rest of the place. "Didn't you want to show me around?"

"Oh, right. This is the dining room." She led him into the adjoining room that consisted of little more than a table flanked by four chairs, a fancy vase with artificial flowers, and a couple of her sketches framed on the wall. "I don't really use it that much unless I have people over. I normally eat on the couch."

Just like they had at his place.

Jason followed her into the main room. "That's my entertainment center – stereo's under there. Kate found the couch and the loveseat for me at a great price, and I made the pillows. The throws, too."

He knew that without her even telling him. There was something very personable about the room, and it was obvious that was because she had carefully crafted most of the décor herself.

"Elton restored that ottoman for me and turned it into a magazine rack," she said proudly. "He also helped me paint that little bookshelf. Come this way."

He followed her down the hall, trailing after her like a child, and carefully studying everything they passed. He normally didn't care less about how people decorated their home, but this wasn't just anyone's home. It was Elizabeth's. Every last square inch of it was hers to do with what she wished, and he liked being able to see her personality displayed. She hadn't had much of a chance to decorate his penthouse the way she wanted, and he suspected that she wouldn't have even if he let her because she didn't want to infringe on his style.

"Bathroom's here, just for future reference." She flicked the light on and off, then pointed to the bedrooms. "That's the master bedroom there, and that's my office slash junk room."

He poked his head into the room and found a cluttered desk, piles of _Couture _and other fashion magazine back issues on the floor, and a few unframed canvases leaning against the wall. Not wanting to poke around too much so early on, he nodded and withdrew, letting her lead him back to the main room.

"I was, uh, just pouring drinks when you got here," she explained. "I've got a really great bottle of wine that I've had sitting around for a special occasion, and I thought I might as well open it. Here."

She passed him a glass and Jason sipped it as he watched her squeeze lemon juice into her own and stir it with a cinnamon stick. "You wanna sit down?"

He nodded and led the way into her living room. She was watching him as he slowly sank down onto the couch and then awkwardly moved to sit on the other end.

"So…"

He pursed his lips together. "Yeah."

Elizabeth cleared her throat and returned to a safe, trusted topic. "What are the guys up to tonight?"

That got a smile out of him. "I told them not to invite girls over or order in or play their music too loud or stay up late playing video games…"

"So…"

"…So they're inviting girls over, ordering food, playing their music, and having a video game tournament," he finished with a grin. 

Elizabeth grinned back. "Nice."

"Yeah."

Another few minutes passed with the two of them tapping various things – the pillows, the back of the couch, the armrest, their knees – with their fingertips.

"How do you like your guards?"

"They're great," she replied quickly. "Sean and Casey are wonderful. They follow me around but they're so unobtrusive that sometimes I forget they're there."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Good."

"I, uh, gave them the night off," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You know, since you were coming over, I didn't think…I mean, I hope that's okay."

That was more than okay. It meant that she felt just as safe alone with him as she did when there were two burly men shadowing her every step. "It's fine."

Elizabeth looked visibly relieved. "Okay, good."

Another few minutes of silence.

"So, you've been talking to Brenda, right?"

She nodded immediately. "Yeah, we started talking again a while back. We talk about Michael and Sonny and the guys back in Port Charles, everyone. I heard your little sister is going to Yale. That's wonderful."

He smiled modestly. "Yeah, she's a smart kid. Really excited about moving out of the Quartermaine house and being on her own."

Elizabeth had to smile at that. "You don't blame her one bit, do you?"

"Nope."

"And I hear that Michael's the star of his T-ball team." Her eyes lit up every time she mentioned the little boy. "Brenda put him on for a minute, but he had just come home from practice and needed to shower before dinner, so we couldn't talk much."

"He loves it," Jason replied. "He's made a lot of friends, too, and he's good at the game. Got good hand-eye coordination. Spinelli's taking all the credit."

"For teaching him how to play Super Mario Brothers?" Elizabeth smirked when he nodded. "Yeah, it figures."

"He, uh, he really liked the gift you sent him." Jason fiddled with the edge of the burgundy throw she had tossed over the back of the couch. "For his birthday, I mean. We couldn't get him to put it down."

Her smile was wide and warm. "Good. I'm glad. I saw it and knew that I had to get it for him – it had _Michael _written all over it."

He nodded and they continued to stare at each other for a long moment, and Elizabeth's relief was evident when her telephone rang. She leapt up the couch and banged her knees into the coffee table in her haste. "Excuse me, I have to get that."

Jason let out a breath when she was gone and closed his eyes. This was turning out to be a lot harder than he thought. They were both sticking to the safe topics and not letting themselves go too deep, and that was no way to rebuild a relationship. Sooner or later they were going to have to ditch the weather and traffic and Michael's T-ball team as topics and talk about something else, something closer to them.

He eyed his wine on the table. Yeah, that was going to be hard.

Elizabeth could be heard chatting away on the phone – something about fabric swatches for something or other that he had little interest in – and he glanced at her wine glass with the extra-long stick of cinnamon. He had never seen anyone drink wine like that. Granted, he wasn't the biggest connoisseur in the world, but Brenda appreciated a fine bottle and kept her penthouse stocked for company and special occasions. 

Checking to make sure she was out of sight, Jason reached out and picked up her glass, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a small sip. To his surprise, it wasn't all that bad. When they were married, she had the most peculiar habit of mixing things together that normally didn't belong together. She put green tea in her cola, mint leaves in her black tea, honey on her grilled fish, ranch dressing on her pizza, peanut butter on her apples and raisins in her salad. More than half of that disgusted him, but her lemon juice and cinnamon combination wasn't bad.

He set the glass down and waited until she came back.

"Sorry about that," Elizabeth smiled. "I was looking into some fabric samples for something that I'm working on, and that was our seamstress at Couture. She's helping me."

Jason nodded and watched as she settled down on the couch again. "Sewing something?"

"Yup. I'm actually working on a handbag. An oversized tote, kind of." She outlined the dimensions with her index fingers and shrugged. "It's kind of where my mind's been recently. You know, purses, clutches. I had an idea for a design that I couldn't get out of my head so I thought, why not? I know how to sew. I know all about the materials I need and the look I want, so why not just make it?"

He nodded along. "Yeah."

She drew back a little and curled her legs up under herself. "So…"

Dear God, if he heard that word one more time he was going to put his fist with something. The thought made him chuckle, which in turn drew a hopeful look from his ex-wife.

"Is it hard for you to be in the city so often?" she asked. "I mean, you know, away from Sonny and Brenda and Michael. You two were always together but Spinelli tells me that you only go home now once or twice a month. Is it different?"

Jason shrugged. "Different, yeah. I wouldn't say it was hard for me."

"I bet Spinelli makes it easier for you."

Amazingly enough, he admitted to that. "Yeah. He's familiar, I guess. We used to work closely back in Port Charles, too, and it's good that he and Johnny are friends. Plus, they keep me busy. Real busy. I don't have much time to sit around and think about Port Charles."

"Same here," she murmured. "When I was in Boston, I couldn't stop thinking about Port Charles. Just…everything. The first kidnapping, our wedding, the second kidnapping…everything. So when Kate offered me a job here, it just seemed like I had nothing to lose. It was a new place-"

"A new start," Jason finished.

She nodded. "Yeah. And when I got here and started working here, I was so busy at first just trying to get a handle on my job and learning all I could from Kate. But when I was promoted, things got a little easier because I knew what I had to do and how to do it, so I had more free time. And then Kate and I started spending more time together, and I think sometimes that she did that to keep me occupied. I-I already told her all about what happened in Port Charles, and I think she just wanted to help me move forward and forget all of that. I didn't sit around and think about Port Charles, either."

She trailed off and looked at him, and they sat like that on the couch, just staring at each other, for a long moment. Finally, Elizabeth twisted her fingers in her lap, between her knees, and broke the silence.

"Jason? Can I ask you something?"

He snapped immediately to attention. "Yeah."

Her eyes were wide but tired as they found his again, and she pulled just the corner of her lower lip into her mouth. "Why are you here?"

The corners of his mouth pinched downward. "What do you mean? I told you, I-"

"Wanted to see me," she repeated quietly. "I know. But why are you _here_?"

Maybe this was a trick question. Maybe she was asking him why he hadn't arranged for her to meet him at his place. Maybe she was asking-

"I asked you to let me be free when I asked for a divorce the first time…and the second time…and the third time…" She cleared her throat when he looked away, appearing agitated. "When I moved away, I _was _free. I thought you'd feel you were, too."

He arched a brow, the warmth missing from his expressive eyes. "Meaning?"

She pressed her lips together before finally answering. "I thought you'd move on with your life. Immediately. Not that you'd stay alone. Not that you'd move out here. Not that you'd ever want to revisit this and see me again."

She was starting to make sense now, and the tension that held his body stiff and taut very slowly began to ebb. "Elizabeth."

"Why are you here?" she repeated, the words tumbling out faster now. "I'm not the kind of woman that – your type is so different – I –"

She shook her head. "I thought you'd have moved on. I don't know, gotten together with Sam again, or-"

"Elizabeth." This time, he reached out and put a hand on her knee. It was the only way he knew to get her to shut up: she always used to tense up when he touched her and he figured he'd actually use it to his advantage this time.

When her mouth remained shut, he withdrew his hand. "I ended things with Sam the night we got married. I didn't try to start things again with her – ever."

Elizabeth swallowed roughly. "That – That wasn't my point, really. It's just that I knew when we got married that you were in love with Sam, and that you guys had been together for a while and that everyone said you were planning to propose to her and then that night at my birthday party-"

He cut her off with a look that only he could manage. "I didn't love Sam. Not the way she wanted me to. And as far as everyone saying that I planned to propose to her, they're all wrong. I never wanted to marry Sam."

"But she was perfect for you," Elizabeth whispered, not following. "She knew all about the business and she knew how to protect herself and how to deal with people and how to shoot a gun, and it just seemed so natural that you would want-"

"A life with her? A home?" Jason shook his head. "What kind of home would it have been? Our lives would have been so chaotic, with one or both of us in jail half the time. What kind of home is that?"

"I just thought that I was in the way of-"

He didn't want her to say anymore. "You weren't. I never would have married Sam, anyway. I never wanted to marry anyone."

She winced, which he expected, and Jason reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And then I married you, and I _still _didn't want to marry anyone. Because I knew the same thing you knew."

Elizabeth averted her gaze and fiddled with her fingers. "What?"

"That I wouldn't make a good husband."

Hesitantly, she traced her fingertips across his rough knuckles. "I had no idea. I thought you were just waiting for me to get out of your life."

He kept his hand still under hers and arched a brow. "I fought you as hard as I could when you asked for the divorce."

"I never got why you did that." She lifted a single shoulder. "I thought it was because it was too soon after the kidnapping and you wanted to be sure there weren't any other threats out there. Or because you were resistant to change."

He smirked at that, but kept silent as to his true reasons for behaving the way he had. There was no reason to tell her too much too soon and scare her off again.

"I-I'm sorry for asking," Elizabeth got out, slipping her hands between her knees again. "I don't know why I did, I shouldn't have. But thank you all the same for being honest."

"I'm glad you asked," Jason confessed. "There are certain things you should know, and you have to ask about 'em."

He shifted on the couch, and Elizabeth followed by leaning closer. "Elizabeth, if we're going to do this, you can't be afraid to ask me things. And I can't be afraid to answer. Within reasonable limit, I mean."

"I know," she was quick to respond. "And I wouldn't ask anything that I knew you couldn't answer, anyway."

"Okay."

"Okay."

They stared at each other for another long moment, and when the silence stretched too long, Jason began to slowly rise from his seat on the couch.

"Maybe I should go," he said, pushing himself up. There was no sense in overstaying his welcome, especially if it was going to be this forced and uncomfortable. "I'll just-"

"No," Elizabeth burst out before she remembered herself. "I mean, you just got here. Besides, you said yourself that the guys weren't expecting you back for a while. And I was going to order food, anyway, so you might as well."

He stopped where he was, suspended in that awkward position between sitting and fully standing. "…Do you want me to stay?"

She gave him a small smile and tugged him back down. "I want you to stay."


	33. What If We Could

**32**

_Some time later…_

"Hey!" Jason strode into the entertainment room in Johnny's apartment suite and glared at the boys, both of whom were sitting on black bean bag chairs in front of the plasma screen and playing Counterstrike…for the tenth straight hour.

"The hell's the matter with you two?" he demanded as they gaped stupidly up at him. "The opera starts in forty minutes!"

Spinelli and Johnny exchanged glances. "What opera might this be?"

"Why are you wearing a suit, Stone Cold?"

He scowled at them. "Are you fucking kidding me? We have to go to the opera tonight – I told you two about it yesterday!"

The boys stared at him. "…We had no idea we had to go to the opera."

Jason closed his eyes and slapped the tickets against his palm. "Do you idiots ever listen to anything I say?"

"But we don't want to go to the opera, Stone Cold," Spinelli pouted. "Do we have to?"

"It's Pavarotti performing 'Pagliacci' for the first time in New York since his bypass surgery," Jason growled. "Yes, we have to. We have to at least be seen there."

"But operas are boring," Johnny sighed. "My father used to take me to them all the time and I always fell asleep fifteen minutes into it and tried to escape during intermission. Jason, I really don't want to go. Plus, we aren't even dressed and I didn't make any dinner reservations and-"

"Yeah, please don't make us go, Stone Cold," Spinelli pleaded.

Jason worked his jaw and fanned the three tickets out in his hand. "So what the hell am I supposed to do? There's no way we can all stay home. Am I supposed to go by myself?"

Their pleading eyes told him he had guessed correctly.

Jason sighed and shoved the tickets into his pocket. "Fine. I'll go by myself. But you assholes owe me for this."

"We'll make it up to you, Stone Cold, we promise!" Spinelli vowed.

"We absolutely will," Johnny agreed as Jason headed out of the room. "Thanks for taking the bullet on this one."

-----------------------------

_After being driven to the opera, waiting in the lobby for three minutes, catching a cab, and being dropped off elsewhere…_

"I can't believe you did that!" Elizabeth was laughing as she flopped down on the couch next to him. "Those poor boys. So neglected."

Jason snorted and waited for her to settle down. "Those two idiots are probably still parked in front of the TV with their damn Counterstrike. Plus, something called Super Smash Brothers is coming out next week and they've preordered it and it's all they talk about. I might have been able to leave without them even noticing, but I figured I better have a plan of some sort."

"But lying to them about non-existent opera tickets?" She eyed the three stubs from last week's game that Jason had dropped on the coffee table when he explained how he was able to sneak away without his two sidekicks knowing. "Don't you think that's a little excessive?"

He rested his head on the back of the couch, feeling the tremors in the cushions when she continued to laugh at him. "You underestimate how obsessed they both are with the details of my personal life."

Elizabeth stretched out next to him and played with her half-finished bottle of beer. "They find you fascinating. And they have no idea that we're seeing each other again?"

"No. They think that you said no and that I'm over it." He smiled at the thought. "Even gave me a big speech about how I didn't need you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they would."

"They like you, though."

"They just like you a lot more," she replied sweetly. "Which they should, because you're their mentor."

"Oh, come on, not you, too."

"What?" she exclaimed. "You are! You're their beloved mentor! Their spiritual guru! Their Yoda!"

"Jesus Christ."

"You know it's true," she smirked, "no matter how much you like to pretend it isn't. They adore you."

"They live to make me miserable."

"True, but only because they adore you."

He grumbled under his breath and continued to stare up at the ceiling. "You know what Spinelli did after you moved out?"

"What?"

"He took all the liquor from my wet bar and gave it to Brenda to hide at her place. And every time I got more, he did the same. Brenda's got a twenty-year old bottle of scotch under her floorboards, and she doesn't even drink scotch. And a few weeks ago, after I said that you didn't want to do this, he and Johnny did a sweep of my apartment and poured all my stuff down the drain again."

She rested her head on the cushion and gazed up at him. "And that doesn't tell you something?"

"Tells me that they want me miserable."

Elizabeth flicked his arm with her thumb and middle finger. "Be serious, Jason. They obviously do it because they hate it when you drink. And they want you to be able to face your personal problems without always getting out the scotch. Or the tequila. Or the whiskey."

He remained silent for a long moment, thinking about something one of the boys had said a few months back. "Spinelli was telling Johnny once that it used to upset you when I would drink while we were married."

She shrugged uneasily. "It did. A little."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because I figured that it was one of the few aspects of your normal routine that you didn't have to drastically change because of our marriage. I didn't want to guilt you into stopping, and to be honest, I didn't really think you'd listen even if I asked."

Jason considered that, thinking that she was right and he probably wouldn't have. "Sometimes, I just needed a drink."

"Sometimes, I did, too," she joked. "So I didn't really blame you for it. But it used to bother me that sometimes when things got too hard, you would just hole up by yourself and shut everyone out and drink and then come back as if it was all fixed, because it wasn't."

"I've never been good at sharing things with other people," he confessed. "Even this right now is hard enough because I've never done it with anyone else. Sonny and I leave a lot unsaid just because we know each other, we know how we think, so it's all pretty much understood. Brenda already knows that I don't share so when we talk, it's just her talking on and on and on until I like about having to go take care of business just so I can get out of there. And it's different with the guards because they work for me and don't need to know much about me beyond that."

"I know." She nodded in encouragement. "I know that you don't really do that. Trust me, I do. It's just part of who you are. You're a lot simpler than most people. Not like that," she added, exasperated, when he gave her a look.

"I just mean that for you, things aren't as complicated as people sometimes make them. You don't get caught up in the little things and you try to look at things as objectively as you can, which means you have a completely different perspective on them. And I wouldn't change that about you, I really wouldn't."

"There wasn't a whole lot you did try to change about me," he murmured, thinking back on their time together. "You tried so hard to keep to yourself."

"Because I kept telling myself that our arrangement was only temporary," she reminded him. "That way, it didn't matter if you never talked to me and if we never spent time with each other and if you went out drinking with your friends. It didn't matter and I didn't have to be hurt by it because it was all temporary anyway."

"I kept telling myself that, too," Jason admitted. "Because that meant I didn't have to talk to you or spend time with you or get to know you. And I didn't have to worry about starting to care for you but then having to divorce you once Manny was dead because that was our deal. If it was temporary, then I didn't have to invest anything in it. And if I was angry enough about something to get out the scotch, then it was okay. I didn't have to fix anything because it wasn't going to last anyway."

Her eyes shone with understanding for the first time, and Elizabeth allowed him a small smile. "I can understand that. We were both looking at the situation the same way, kind of, but it ended up getting away from us."

"Pretty much."

"You know, I think Brenda knew." She settled down on the couch as he looked down at her. "I think she knew that we were always at an impasse – almost there, but not quite. She would take me aside a lot and try to explain your perspective to me, but it didn't always land. I remember one night I was really upset about you going out after an argument – probably to Jake's – and then not coming home. She told me that you just needed a place that was familiar to you where you could get your thoughts together, and that drinking was just how you relaxed sometimes. And she said that you probably got that from Sonny, because he used to say that he just couldn't fall asleep at night without a drink."

She shifted on the couch and continued to look up at him. "I never realized just how affected you were by Sonny."

He scowled a little at that. "It's not like I try to be just like him."

"That's not what I meant," Elizabeth explained. "I just meant that you picked up a lot of his quirks and you share some of his beliefs, which is just a given since you two have been best friends and have been working so closely together for so many years. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I've actually started noticing that I'm getting to be a little like Kate." She bit her lip nervously when he stared at her, panicked. "I know. It's just little things – the way I talk to people sometimes, the way I handle my impatience, the way I flick my wrist to tell people that they're dismissed. Stupid little things like that."

Jason was still staring at her, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to bolt.

She gave him a wry look and propped her head up with her hand. "So if I start criticizing you one day about wearing a double Windsor with a spread collar and then tell you that you'd better get me my coffee the way I like it, try to take it in stride."

He was still staring at her.

"Oh, and by the way? Those shoes are totally last year."

He paled just a little, his muscles tensing, and shot off the couch in alarm. And he would have gotten away, too, if Elizabeth hadn't anticipated it and pulled him back down, laughing.

"Relax, Jason, I'm just kidding. Besides, we still have a few months before the transformation becomes complete."


	34. Past Pain

**33**

_On a Monday morning…_

"Bye, Uncle Jason!" Michael hugged his uncle as tightly as he could before Jason set him down on the ground again. "Have a safe trip."

"I will, buddy, thanks," he replied, tousling his hair. "Good luck with Show and Tell today."

Brenda rose on her toes and kissed his cheek, rubbing away the glossy print she left. "Okay. Try to get some rest today, Jason, before jumping back into the week. I don't like you doing all this running around. You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he promised. "Really, don't worry about it. Sonny."

His best friend clapped him on the back as they walked toward the door. "Let me know if you or Johnny need anything – that always stands. And I'm calling a meeting of the Five Families the day after tomorrow, so if you have the chance, maybe you can call in and conference with us. If not, no big deal, I'll make sure you know everything you need to know."

Jason nodded. "That works. Okay, see you guys."

"Say hi to Johnny for us," Michael called out as he stepped into the hall. "And to Aunt Lizabeth, too, if you see her around!"

"Michael." Brenda smoothed her hand over his dark hair, quieting the boy. "Honey, your uncle Jason isn't seeing Elizabeth anymore. They've both moved on with their lives, sweetheart, and maybe it's better if we don't bring her up so much when he's around, okay?"

Michael schooled his features and nodded, trying not to let his mother see him smile.

--------------------------

_On Monday evening…_

Elizabeth opened the door and pulled him in before they even exchanged greetings. "You're late, Jason. Come on in. You're going to help me finish making dinner. You want a beer first?"

She had promised to try her hand at cooking tonight, and he was conflicted about the upcoming event. "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I got a little caught up with work and ran late."

"How did you sneak away this time?" she asked with one of her secret smiles. "You got a carbon-copy double lecturing Spinelli and Johnny right now while you're here?"

Jason had to smile at that. "Not really. I left Port Charles this morning, checked into a hotel, got some work done, and came straight here."

Elizabeth shot him a quizzical look. "Won't they notice?"

"Not a chance," he replied, letting her push him into the kitchen. "Those two idiots barely notice me when I'm standing a foot away and yelling at them. Besides, that Super Smash video game thing I was telling you about finally came out a week or two ago and it's hell getting them to do anything else. They're probably still playing."

She laughed at that and handed him a few boiled potatoes and a clean paring tool. "Here. Skin these, then mash them up, and then add the butter and garlic. The roast is in the oven, and I'm going to finish up the biscuits."

He nodded and settled easily into his task, and Elizabeth reflected that she was pretty lucky that he didn't make a face when she made him do things around her place whenever he came over. She had tried it once after they'd hung out a couple times and found that the evenings went by faster and were generally more fun and comfortable when he was working with his hands.

Jason had admitted to her that it was hard for him to sit and talk about his thoughts and feelings and his past and all of those lovely things they probably needed to rehash if they were going to make this work, and that was what had given her the idea to put him to work. She thought that maybe it was the fact that when they were on her couch, they were sitting face to face with lots of personal contact and eye contact and that it was a little unnerving for Jason, who was by nature quiet and stoic and kept things close to the vest.

The next time he came over, she told him that her chandelier was giving her trouble and that she thought she heard something break inside the fixture when she tried to change the bulbs. So naturally, Jason had taken the whole thing down and tinkered with it while she grabbed them both a beer and perched herself on the counter. They talked the whole time he was working on the thing, and he didn't seem to hate it so she took it as progress.

And that was what she thought was the secret to this early phase of their resurrected relationship: keep Jason occupied. When he was working with his hands, he was much more at ease than if he was just sitting idly, or more likely, being forced to sit idly and looking directly at her. When he worked with his hands, his words flowed better and far more easily, and it wasn't such a challenge to get him to talk and relax. And when he was talking and relaxed and comfortable, so was she.

"I got this recipe from Sonny," she told him as she got out her muffin pans. "Garlic cheddar biscuits. He made them once with dinner and I think I ate, like, six of them, so he gave me the recipe afterward. I tried to make them once at Harborview and then again at the Greystone, but they didn't turn out right."

"You burned them so bad they looked like hunks of charcoal," Jason snickered. "Sonny was convinced that even dumping them in the trash was violating waste management codes."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I didn't see you cooking a single thing when we were married. You even promised to make me breakfast that one morning but when I woke up, you were gone."

She was referring, of course, to their one night together as husband and wife at the Greystone, the night he told her that in the morning they'd shower together and he'd make her breakfast, the same night that he vowed to tell her he loved her when the sun rose again.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and concentrated on the potato in his hands. "I didn't want to leave, but Sonny called me at about five in the morning and told me an emergency came up and he needed me at the warehouse. He was calling from his office, meaning he was actually up earlier trying to fix it and needed my help when he couldn't do it alone. So I felt bad and went. But I left you a note. You got my note, right?"

"Yeah. It said that something came up with the business and that you'd be back as soon as you could." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and continued spooning out the garlic-cheddar batter. "It wasn't much of a note. It sounded kind of…terse."

"I didn't mean it to," he replied honestly. "I just meant that something came up and I'd be back as soon as I could."

Elizabeth smiled as he repeated practically the whole thing verbatim. "Yeah, I know that now. But you still cheated me out of breakfast, Morgan."

"I'll make you eggs another time," he promised with a little grin. "How about that?"

"That'll do," she pretended to snip. "How are those potatoes coming?"

He handed her the bowl so that she could transfer it to a saucepan and put it on the stove. "Done."

There was nothing left for him to do, so Jason leaned against the counter and nursed his beer as Elizabeth worked with her back toward him.

"Hey, listen, I wanted your opinion on something."

That was unusual, but she tried not to make a big deal about it. "Yeah? What?"

"Your original guards are available now." No other information was given on the subject, and none was needed. "If you want, you can have them back, or you can keep Sean and Casey on. Whatever you want."

"I'd actually like to keep Sean and Casey, if that's okay." She glanced at him over her shoulder and whisked her bangs out of her face. "I mean, if Johnny doesn't mind."

Jason shook his head. "He doesn't need them. He's gotten to thinking of them as my men, anyway, since they're still guarding you."

"It was very nice of him to select them for me himself," she said. "They're just the nicest guys to have around. They're so respectful and polite, and I never hear them complain no matter what I put them through. Although, to be fair, I try to do all my stuff on my own so that they don't feel like they're indentured servants or anything, but sometimes I just have too much stuff to carry so they help and I let them, and that's nice."

She was rambling again, but he was well used to it. "Yeah, they're good guys."

"And they're so quiet and they blend into the background so well that basically no one at Couture even bats an eyelash when they come in anymore. And they let me buy them coffee, which is nice."

"You don't have to, you know. They get paid really well."

"I know that," she replied witheringly. "But buying them coffee makes me feel good. And I've gotten really good at it, too: I know that Sean likes his black with three sugars and no cream, and that Casey likes no-water skim nonfat soy lattes with just a dash of cinnamon."

Jason snorted. No self-respecting bodyguard would actually admit to liking a concoction like-

"And don't you go making fun of him for it," she warned as if reading his thoughts. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with a man liking flavored coffee. Just because you drink yours black with no sugar doesn't mean that's part of the Manly Code or whatever."

Jason arched a brow. "Manly Code?"

"…Shut up." She spooned the now whipped and flavored mashed potatoes into a serving bowl and set the saucepan in the sink to wash later. "They're really sweet guys. And unlike Seth and Josh from earlier, they don't crowd me. I know those guys meant well, but I nearly went out of my skin when I bumped into them or when they snuck up behind me. Sean and Casey always maintain a little bit of distance."

He scratched the stubble on his cheek and cocked his head to the side. "…Why do they scare you like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said the same thing when Johnny and I brought Sean and Casey around the first time," he reminded her, "that it really scared you when someone came up from behind you and got too close. Why?"

She stilled, her hands in oven mitts and poised to pull out a tray of biscuits, and Elizabeth tried to come up with the right answer. "…It's no big deal, really."

Jason didn't look convinced. "It's obviously important to you."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and finally pulled the tray out of the oven. "It's not exactly something I talk about, and it's hardly dinner conversation."

He wasn't distracted by her attempt to joke it away, and Jason's gaze remained trained on her as she set the biscuits down on the counter. "Elizabeth."

It was something she didn't tell people. In fact, only her family, Brenda, Kate, and two of her girlfriends from college knew about it. If theirs had been a regular marriage, it was something Jason would have known about. But since it wasn't, she never brought it up and never wanted to.

But the fact remained that they were trying the whole 'open and honest' thing, and that meant talking about things that they didn't really want to talk about. Jason had been so wonderful so far and she felt that she understood him so much better now than she did when they were man and wife, and maybe it was time to let him know.

She cleared her throat and concentrated on prying the biscuits – a little crisp, but thankfully not burned – from the tray. "I was fifteen years old when I was raped. It happened in Colorado in a park a few blocks from our house. I lost a scarf that my Gram made for me and I ran back after catching a movie with a friend to see if I could find it."

Her hands didn't tremble, her voice didn't waver, and her vision didn't blur. It was something from her past and she had lived with it for years, finally understanding that it could only hurt her if she let it. Behind her, Jason had gone deathly still.

"He grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth with his hand. Ever since then, I get startled if someone surprises me from behind. That's all."

She turned around to look at him and found that he hadn't moved a muscle. Jason stared back at her, his body rigid, and appeared to struggle for words.

"You…" His brows furrowed and he closed his mouth, opening it only when he was sure of what he'd say next. "You were raped."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah."

She reached out and touched his arm, caressing it lightly just to break him out of whatever he was going through. "It's okay. It happened a long time ago, and he was caught and is still serving his sentence. And it's not something I dwell on. It happened, I was able to get past it, and I moved on. Anything less, I think, would have been letting him win."

Jason swallowed roughly as she walked past him into the dining room to set the biscuits and the potatoes down and hesitantly reached for her arm when she came back. "What was his name?"

"No, Jason, you're not going to kill him." She shook her head adamantly and pulled free, reaching for the steamed vegetables to put on the table next. "I don't want his blood on your hands or on my conscience. He's going to rot in the state penitentiary and live in perpetual fear of dropping the soap in the shower and getting a taste of his own medicine. And I'm not saying another thing about it."

He held silent as she moved past him again to set the vegetables on the table, then returned for the roast, which was almost done. "Elizabeth-"

"Jason." Her tone, though firm, lacked anger or the sense of a threat. "I don't want to talk about him anymore. I've already talked too much. Contrary to what it seems like, he's not someone I think about or remember."

"I-It's not that." His face was pinched in concentration, his expression so grim that Elizabeth actually stopped to listen to what he had to say.

"Jason?"

He sucked in a slow breath. "I had no idea that happened to you."

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes soft and sympathetic. "I know. It wasn't something I wanted you to know. It wasn't something I wanted you to think about when you looked at me. There are actually very few people who know at all."

That wasn't what he was talking about, and it was as if he didn't even hear her. "That night at the Greystone…"

Her eyes widened when she realized what he was getting at. "Oh, Jason, no."

"Did I scare you? At all?" Piercing eyes met hers, and she sensed a twinge of remorse. "I was so rough with you. If I-"

"Jason, stop." She reached out and settled her hands on his arm, looking up at him openly. Her lips curved with just the hint of a smile. "Whoa, whoa, just stop. You did _nothing _wrong that night."

"But-"

"Will you just stop?" she asked again gently. "You didn't do anything wrong. I would have told you if you did."

"If I scared you or made you remember-"

"You didn't," Elizabeth told him firmly.

"But I did grab you from behind," Jason insisted. "And I felt you tense up but you didn't say anything so I just thought-"

She pressed her finger to his lips and shook her head. It felt so strange to be having this conversation with him, and in her kitchen of all places while that damn roast was drying out in the oven, but she knew deep down inside that this was a critical impasse, and they needed to do this.

"If I did tense up, it was because you surprised me – in a good way," she added, her eyes never leaving his. "And trust me, you were the only man I was thinking about that night."

He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and hesitantly placed his hand on her hip, wrapping the other one around her waist when she leaned into him. "The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Or scare you. I know I used to scare you, but I never-"

"I know." Her words were partially muffled by his shirt. "And you didn't hurt me the way you're afraid you did. I don't think you have it in you to hurt any woman like that, no matter what. And you know something?"

She tipped her chin up and looked at him, realizing just how close their faces were as he stared intently down at her. "I can't tell you how safe and special you made me feel that night, or how much I needed to feel that way."

---------------------------------

_Tuesday morning…_

Johnny elbowed Spinelli as Jason walked into the restaurant where they always had breakfast every single Tuesday morning. "There he is."

"He's got some explaining to do," Spinelli murmured, setting down his glass of ice water. "And this time, we're not going to let him off so easy. He's going to give us real answers if we have to beat them out of him."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "Who does he think he is, having a life outside of us? Okay, remember, play it cool. And don't crack when he glares at you. Think of something happy, like bunnies or shit, when he does that. If we don't respond to the glares, we take away all his power."

"Got it."

They sat quietly as Jason drew closer and slid into the booth without bothering to greet them.

"Good morning, Stone Cold."

He glanced at Spinelli. "Hey."

The boys exchanged glances and folded their hands neatly over the tabletop. The interrogation had commenced. "You're a little late, don't you think?"

Jason gave Johnny a bland look. "You're getting pissy about five minutes? After all the time you keep me waiting?"

"No answering a question with a question or supposition or insult," Spinelli warned. "We're not playing that game today, Stone Cold."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"No!" he burst out. "We're in charge now."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "So tell us, why so late?"

Jason glared at the two little idiots seated in front of him. "The hell are you talking about?"

"No answering with a question or repeating yourself," Spinelli reminded him.

"It's Tuesday morning."

He rolled his eyes. "I know what day it is, Johnny."

"You left Port Charles yesterday morning," he shot back, wagging a finger just to be irritating. He knew how it annoyed his mentor to have anything wagged in his general direction. "Meaning that you should have gotten here sometime in the early afternoon. But we didn't even see your face til just now, and it's Tuesday morning."

"Where were you on the afternoon, evening, and night of Monday, Stone Cold?"

"What were you doing?"

"Who were you with?"

"Was it a woman?"

"And do we know this Vixenella that occupied your time thusly?"

Jason stared at the two of them. "…Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Hold strong," Johnny murmured to his friend. "No, we're not. And we demand answers."

His stare had turned into a ferocious glare. "Are you fucking _kidding _me? I have been back in Manhattan since yesterday afternoon. I got back to my place, ordered in lunch, and even left you idiots a message at the desk to come find me when you came back from your Idiots' Convention-"

"Anime," Spinelli corrected meekly.

"-And you never did and I had to go through the contracts alone and you think I just got back _now_?" He shook his head and tossed his napkin onto the table, standing up. "Forget it. I'm done."

"No! Wait! Stone Cold, we're sorry!"

"Yeah, Jason, seriously, we're sorry. We totally dropped the ball."

"It won't happen again, we promise."

"And I always forget to check messages at the desk, but I'll do my best to remember from now on."

"Please, Stone Cold, don't leave. We promise we'll do better from now on."

His back still toward them, Jason's lips curved into a sly smile. Hook, line, and sinker. Those boys never stood a chance.


	35. Blue Satin Sashes

**34**

Jason strode into the lounge room in Johnny's apartment where the boys were actively engaged in their weekly Sudoku Tournament. "Listen up, guys. I have some work for you to do tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, Stone Cold."

Their eyes remained glued to the Sudoku puzzles in front of them, and both boys tapped their pencils in agitation as they tried to figure out the number codes in less time than it took the other to do the same. Jason glanced at his watch and stood silently for exactly five minutes. Neither boy noticed.

"Okay, so you got all that?"

"Yeah, Stone Cold, we'll take care of it."

"Consider it done," Johnny replied. "Shit, there can't be two three's. How the hell do I keep getting two three's?"

"Obviously, Interloper, it's because you're making a mistake."

"I know I'm making a mistake, Nerd-Boy, I just-"

"Ha! Another quadrant finished."

"Damn, damn."

Jason's eyes darted back and forth between them. "So you guys will take care of all of that by the time I get back?"

"Absolutely, Stone Cold."

"Good. Because if I come back and find out that you two idiots haven't done shit while I was out, I'm going to-"

"Jason." Johnny looked up with a sigh, frustrated by his lack of success and the fact that he was now wasting precious seconds. "If this is the whole speech about how we should blah blah blah about whatever, you can skip it because we know it all by heart. Go, go, we'll take care of it. As soon as we finish this."

"Yeah," Spinelli agreed. "Right after I kick the Interloper's butt and assert my mental prowess. And, hey, aren't you running late?"

Jason growled and looked at his watch again. "Okay, fine. It might run long, so don't wait up for me if I'm late."

"Night, Stone Cold."

He was almost out of the room when Johnny spoke without lifting his gaze from the puzzle. "Where did he say he was going?"

"I dunno. Library?"

Jason smirked to himself and headed toward the door. Perfect.

-------------------------

"Good, you're here." Elizabeth pulled him into her apartment and kicked the door shut. "I need your help."

"Can we eat first?" He struggled out of his jacket as she practically yanked it off of him. "Those idiots didn't save me any food when they ordered lunch, and I've been busy all afternoon."

"I already made you a sandwich," Elizabeth replied, pushing him down the hall toward her living room. "And you're going to sit and eat it and help me with my stuff."

He grunted as she practically shoved him down on the couch and headed for the kitchen. "Can I get a beer with that?"

"It's on the table next to you!"

Jason looked over and saw that it was. She had a way of making him so comfortable at her place – as girly and frilly and pretty as it was – to the point that sometimes he just didn't want to leave. "So what am I doing tonight?"

She was still in the kitchen, presumably finishing up his sandwich. "I have a meeting with Kate and Elton tomorrow after work to show them some of my designs. The problem is, I have about nine ready and I can only show five, so I want to be sure I pick the right five. And that's where your opinion comes in."

Jason pulled a face as she emerged with his sandwich in one hand and a bag of barbequed chips in the other. And this time, thankfully, she didn't make fun of him for developing a taste for those things thanks to Spinelli. "I don't know anything about that stuff."

"I don't need you to know anything about art or design or sewing," she explained, "I just need you to give me your opinions on some of my work."

"But I like your work. Isn't that good enough?"

She spared him a humorless look. "Nice try, but no."

Jason grumbled to himself and tore a big bite out of his sandwich. "Aren't you going to have dinner?"

"That's not dinner. I just made that for you so that you'd sit happily and do what ever I told you." She smiled when he rolled his eyes. "And I'm not going to eat until after I've shown you all my stuff. I've got Mexican being delivered up, and it'll be here in about an hour, which gives us plenty of time."

Elizabeth looked at him one last time and couldn't help but smile at how comfortable he looked sprawled out on her tiny red couch. He was a bit too big for it, but then again, he was a bit too big for a lot of things, and her furniture was just a little dainty and undersized in design. The contrast always made him look even bigger, even stronger and more masculine, and she had to admit that she didn't mind the visual at all.

The recent months had been wonderful. Meeting in secrecy was the best idea Jason ever had as far as the two of them were concerned. It was safe and comfortable and they could be themselves, free of pressure and any watchful gazes, and it was just wrong enough for it to feel a little naughty and exciting. She loved spending time with him, she loved that for a few evenings during the week for a few hours he was all hers.

And somehow, even with the increased alone time and the increased intimacy that resulted, they still managed to take it slow. They talked a lot, but sometimes they spent the whole evening in silence, just being together. When she finally told him about her rape, it was as if the final barrier between them had broken, and she knew from that moment on that there wasn't a single thing she couldn't tell him if she wanted to.

He was so gentle, so protective, so noble and supportive about that but more importantly, about everything. He was funny, too, amazingly enough, and she sometimes caught herself wondering why he hadn't been that way during their marriage and if he had, why on earth she hadn't noticed. Of course, she had her guard up during all that time, so it was possible she rebuffed all of his better qualities without even thinking about it.

But things were different now, and it made her stomach all fluttery just thinking about it. They had entire evenings during the week to just be together, and it was wonderful. They ordered in food, or sometimes he cooked for her, and occasionally she rented movies or he surfed the channels, or they just watched the sun set over the city from her windows.

Or sometimes they just made out on the couch for an hour.

Heh.

It happened one night when he was almost out the door. He had turned around to say goodnight and leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. And Jason had been just about to turn around and step out into the hall when she had grabbed his shirt, hauled him back in, kicked the door shut behind him, and rose on her toes to press her lips to his again. They made out by the door like hormonal teenagers for half an hour before he finally had to tear himself away and get back to the boys.

She had stopped putting him to work after that. They no longer seemed to need those extra tasks to settle into their rhythm and feel comfortable. And that was definitely progress.

Elizabeth finished changing into her first design and approached the living room, stopping before he could see her. "Okay, you see that pad on the ottoman?"

"…Yeah."

"I want you to just write down a few notes for each design I show you." She waited until she heard him pick up the paper and a pen. "It can be a word, a thought, a criticism, something different you'd like to see, anything. Just your initial thoughts, okay?"

"…I don't really know how to do this."

"Jason, I promise, it's simple. Just your initial thoughts on what you see. I don't want you to over think it: I just want your first impression. Can you do that?"

"…Fine."

She took a deep breath and adjusted the sweetheart neckline of the first dress. "Okay, here we go."

---------------------------------

"All right." Elizabeth hopped down the single step into her living room, once again dressed in her BU track pants and a _Couture _promotional t-shirt. "That's all of them. Let's see your notes."

Jason tossed the pad of paper aside and lunged for her instead, grabbing her by the waist and causing her to effectively topple into his lap. "First things first."

She laughed when he kissed the side of her mouth and squirmed in his lap. "Jason…"

If she was going to say anything else, she never got the chance. He kissed her soundly, adjusting her in his lap, and smoothed his hand up her thigh. Elizabeth ran her fingers through his hair, over the stubble on his cheek, down his jaw, and finally pulled back and looked at him.

"Nice try, but you're not going to get off that easily."

"No, but I can make sure you do," he smirked.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, knowing that he wouldn't be pushed to see that threat through. For all his talk, Jason was determined to keep things going the way they were, slow and comfortable, even if she was starting to get antsy. "Let's just see what you wrote."

She hopped off his lap so he wouldn't be tempted and stood in front of him, hands on her hips. "Okay, what did you think of the first one?"

Jason reluctantly picked up his pad and stared at it. "Um…"

"What did you write?" she coaxed. "Just go with that."

"Elizabeth, we used to do this with Brenda all the time," he sighed. "I'm awful at this."

"There's no skill involved. It's just what you think. There's no right or wrong answer, I swear."

He glanced down at his neat block print and looked hopefully up at her. "It was red."

Elizabeth stared at him. "…That's it?"

Jason glanced down at the pad again. "…It was red and it was a dress."

She closed her eyes, trying her hardest not to smile. "Okay. Fine. Technically, you're right. What about the second one?"

He looked down at his notes again, somewhat encouraged because he thought he was doing fine. "It was blue."

"And?"

"It had pockets."

"So?"

He looked up and arched a brow. "It was a dress with pockets."

It was her freaking safari dress inspired by the new grass print fabrics that were coming into _Couture _right and left, the one she had spent hours perfecting on paper and then hours picking the right fabric that was dyed blue to her specifications for a hip urban twist, but to him it was a dress with pockets.

All right, then.

"The third?"

"It should have been shorter."

Her brows pulled together just a little. "It was a tea-length A-line dress with a lace bib neckline and ruched sleeves."

Jason nodded. "And it should have been shorter."

That settled it: he was the cutest man on the planet.

"Okay, what about the one after that?"

"The neck part should have been lower."

"The neck part?"

He gestured to his collarbone. "Yeah, the neck part. Should have been lower. There was too much cloth."

This time, Elizabeth couldn't help herself. She covered her eyes with her hands, unable to keep from grinning. "Oh, Jason."

He was looking up at her, alarmed. "What?"

Her shoulders still shaking with laughter, she shook her head. She had gone about this all the wrong way. "Okay, which ones did I look the hottest in?"

"That's easy," he muttered, looking back at his little notepad. "The red one, the blue one, and the black one were the best."

"Two more?"

"Uh…" He scanned through his notation, looking for single check marks this time instead of double. "That gray one that showed your shoulders and the green silky one."

Her eyes danced with mirth and she smiled broadly down at him. "Thank you."


	36. At Last

**35 (NC-17)**

"So Johnny's in the hospital?"

Jason nodded as he let her pull his coat from his shoulders. "Yeah."

Elizabeth troubled her lip, holding his leather jacket against her chest. "Are you sure you should be here, then? I don't want to-"

"It's nothing serious," he promised. "We were cutting through a back alley when we heard shots go off. We hit the ground and Johnny hit his head, so we took him in and he has a concussion or something. I put him up in one of those fancy suites and Spinelli volunteered to stay with him overnight. They're playing Kakuro or something. One of their tournaments."

Elizabeth contained a smile as she hung up his coat. "Is that anything like Sudoku?"

"In that I can't pronounce either word? Yeah."

"Is he really okay with staying overnight?"

Her ex-husband smirked. "He's got a cute nurse named Nadine or something, so he was surprisingly agreeable when she said she wanted to keep him overnight for observation."

"Sexy," she laughed. "But won't they wonder where you disappeared to?"

Jason shook his head. "I told them that I was going to go investigate and see who it was that took shots at us."

Elizabeth stared at the back of his head as he walked away, heading to her living room, then trotted after him. "…So shouldn't you be investigating?"

Jason smirked at her over his shoulder, turned around, and flopped down onto her couch. "Nah. No one took shots at us."

"But you just said-"

"It was a car backfiring a couple times. No one was ever taking shots at us."

She chuckled under her breath and sat down next to him, curling her legs up on the sofa. "Sneaky."

-------------------------

"You never told me where you got this from."

Jason looked down at the red glass in her hand and rested his cheek against her head. His hands remained clasped over her stomach as Elizabeth snuggled against his back and continued to roll the thing over and over between her palms.

"I saw it and thought you'd like it."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Yeah, you told me that when you gave it to me. You said that you thought I'd like the color because it wasn't a normal red. It wasn't flat and one-toned. It was dark in some places, lighter in others, and it felt like the color was alive in your hands. That's what you said."

He chuckled lightly. "I can't believe you remembered that word for word."

"I thought it was kind of poetic," she shrugged. "Certainly the most poetic thing I ever heard you say. I don't know, it just stayed with me."

"You never said anything about it after that. I used to think you threw it away or lost it, but then I saw it on your windowsill. And you took it with you when you ran away that one time."

Her smile grew. "When I jumped out of a moving car to get away from you?"

Jason groaned despite himself. "You know, the guys still haven't let me live that down. Now that they're not afraid of me anymore, Francis and Ritchie bring it up all the time."

Elizabeth laughed. "Why aren't they afraid of you anymore? You're still scary."

"Those two idiots tire me out," he admitted, referring to the joint team of Spinelli-Zacchara. "And when I get a chance to get back to Port Charles, I'm too worn down to do anything about it when the guys tease me."

"What do they say?"

"Well, Sonny and Brenda always start by asking me if I'm seeing anyone." His arms tightened over her stomach, and his thumbs brushed smooth strokes over her silky camisole top. It was one of her own designs and lingerie-inspired at that, and he felt that she wore it tonight just to taunt him. "Now that I'm divorced, I think they're obsessed with seeing me get married again."

Her whole upper body shook with laughter. "Aw, man, you really can't catch a break, can you?"

He smiled against her hair. "So when they ask me if I'm seeing anyone, Spinelli and Michael always jump in and tell them to leave it alone, and that's when the guys say something about how I shouldn't even think about getting married because I'll be stuck paying my spouse's hospital bills for the rest of my life if she keeps jumping out of moving vehicles to escape me."

"Aw." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Poor thing."

"…I still can't believe you did that."

"That I did it, or that I had the guts to do it?"

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "That's exactly what Ritchie said."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Hey, you never did answer my question."

"What question?"

Elizabeth rubbed the warm, smooth glass against the back of his knuckles. "Where'd you get this? And why did you really give it to me?"

"I told you – I thought you'd like the color."

"I know, but I don't think that's the only reason."

"It was nice," he defended himself. "I thought you'd like it. And…"

"And?"

"Well, I didn't really know what my first gift to you as your husband should be, so I picked that out."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "You always were the most original gift-giver. But where did you get it from?"

"Why do you keep asking that?"

"Because I want to know."

"But what does it matter anymore?"

"It matters to me."

He sighed and shifted on the couch, causing her to shift as well as he adjusted himself. "I had it for a while before I gave it to you. I got it when I was in Italy the first time."

Her eyes widened with delight and she twisted around to look up at him. "Italy? Really? I've always wanted to go there! I was actually supposed to study abroad there one semester, but we-"

"I know."

Her brows pulled together. "What? How did you know?"

Jason licked his lips. "The night we got married, Brenda took you across the hall to show you my place and Michael told me a bit about you. He said that you didn't get along with your parents-"

"Which you saw firsthand."

"And that you loved hot cocoa-"

"Again, which you saw firsthand."

"And that you wanted a pet parrot so you could teach it bad words-"

Elizabeth shook her head and shuddered. "Yeah, no. I baby-sat Elton's pet parrot for a week and changed my mind immediately. Parrots are not all they're cracked up to be. Smelly little flying rats."

"…And he told me that you really wanted to go to Italy one day, and that you were planning to go for school, and that I should surprise you and take you for the first time." He shrugged modestly when her eyes began to glisten. "I kept that piece of glass with me for years, not really knowing why I had it, but when I heard that, I thought it would be perfect for you."

She closed her eyes and leaned into him, resting her forehead against his rough cheek. "I knew there was something special about this red glass."

Jason kissed her nose and let his hands slide around her waist when she turned so that she was facing him. "I hoped you'd like it."

"I love it," she smiled, leaning down to brush her lips against his. With their proximity, Jason felt it acutely when her breath hitched as she murmured, "and I love you."

He stilled, his hands resting stiffly on her hips, and only dared to let out a breath when she pulled back and looked down at him. "You don't have to say that."

Elizabeth smoothed his hair back from the face and pulled just the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth. "I know. You've never once pressured me to say it, and I only would if I meant it. And I do mean it. I love you, Jason. And I can't believe I was almost too afraid to do this again."

His lids drooped as she lowered her mouth to his, and the kiss remained light and tentative. Jason slid his fingers into her hair, angling for a better hold, and pulled her close to him. He could either return the sentiment plainly, or tell her that he had loved her since she had last worn his ring on her finger.

In the end, Jason smiled against her mouth and waited until they parted to take a breath. "I knew we'd work the second time."

Elizabeth grinned and leaned down again, this time to press a kiss to his jaw. His hands slid up from her hips, up to the narrow pinch of her waist, and Jason smoothed up her silky camisole until a fair expanse of creamy skin was exposed. Elizabeth nudged his chin, forcing him to angle his head back, and trailed kisses down his neck.

She lifted her head and glared mischievously at him. "And this is happening, so you better not try to convince me that we should take it slow again."

Jason smirked back at her. "Not a chance."

He sat up straighter and pulled her securely into his lap, wanting to feel all of her with him. They'd been inching toward this slowly for weeks now, never letting it go too far, always holding back, but he needed this now more than he had ever needed anything before. All he wanted was his wife.

She curled up in his embrace and let out a contented sigh when his lips moved along the line of her jaw. Jason's fingers fanned out along her neck, sweeping through her silky hair, and he swept his thumb lightly over her beating pulse point.

Elizabeth dragged a hand boldly down from his chest to his stomach, slipping her fingers under his jeans just to torment him. He shifted on the couch, thrusting upward involuntarily, and that was all the encouragement Elizabeth needed. She grasped the edge of his t-shirt and tugged it out of his pants, then stripped it off his body.

Jason snarled as she flung it away and reached for her, eager to feel the silk of her camisole against his hot flesh. Elizabeth gripped his strong shoulders and lowered her mouth to the sensitive skin of his neck. She licked, nipped, and sucked, tasting his heat and the light saltiness of his skin. She trailed her fingers downward, scraping firmly with her nails as she went but not hard enough to hurt him.

He skimmed his hand up her back, sliding the silk fabric of her shirt higher and higher, watching it roll and scrunch until he removed his hand and it slipped back down again. Elizabeth pulled back from kissing his neck and looked down at him, her eyes dark and smoldering, as she once again rested her fingers on the waistband of his jeans. This time, she grasped the silver zipper and tugged, pulling it gently down over the gentle bulge until it was all the way down.

She leaned lower, brushing her lips temptingly close to his, and Jason tilted his head for a kiss. But Elizabeth evaded him and stealthily reached under the flap of his jeans, cupping him through his boxers. He groaned and arched his back, and she lowered her head and nipped at his neck, knowing it always drove him wild when she did that.

Sure enough, her coy but commanding touch was costing him his patience, and Jason gripped her silk camisole in both hands and yanked it up, forcing her to remove her hand from his body so that they could send the shirt sailing. He was reaching for the snap of her bra when she touched him again, this time through his boxers, and he had to suck in a quick breath as her fingers artfully caressed him.

Elizabeth chuckled and raked her teeth across the shell of his ear, letting her chest, bra and all, brush against his skin. She curled her back up, bringing them closer together, and Jason's fingers skimmed down to the small of her back and rested on the band of her trousers. Her touch grew firmer, stronger, and she could feel his heart thunder in his chest when she squeezed him and then pumped.

Jason had already had enough. He squirmed on the couch until he had unseated her, then pulled her against his side and threw her crimson afghan onto the carpet. Once it was spread, he lowered them both to the floor so that Elizabeth was on her back with little hope of continuing her delicious torture.

"Jason?" Her blue eyes were wide and starry, and she reached up and caressed his rough cheek.

He could never resist her when she looked at him like that, like he was all she ever needed, and Jason leaned down and kissed her soundly, luxuriating in the silky warmth of her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, eager to feel his warmth, and Jason skimmed a hand over the quivering muscles of her stomach to the snap of her beige tailored trousers. He slid the zipper down and finessed the pants off of her with as much grace as he could manage.

She bent her knee, resting it against his hip and giving him a comfortable place to settle himself. The wool was soft against her back and Jason's hand were quite rough against her skin, but she relished the contrast and squirmed underneath him, eager for his touch. There was something about the man that just set everything inside of her on fire. He had treated her with such exquisite care that night at the Greystone, even though he had been rough and aggressive and controlling, and she was only just beginning to learn that such innate contrasts were what made him such an extraordinary man.

There really was something to be said for a man that could make her feel so safe and loved when they were alone and be so cold and hard to everyone on the outside, the man that could smile with her and laugh with her but be entirely unreadable to the rest of the world. It was like he was her secret, only for her to know and enjoy, and she held him close to her heart.

Jason slipped his wallet out of his back pocket, and she heard the crinkle of foil before he tossed it aside and struggled out of his jeans. His fingers skimmed up her side, sliding under her back so that he could undo the snap of her bra. Once it was loose, he tugged the light blue scrap down with his teeth and flung it away, replacing it quickly with his lips.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to mew and shift restlessly as he nibbled, nipped, and sucked. He paid thorough attention to her breasts, molding them to his palm and testing and rolling and squeezing their supple weight before he knew from her ragged breathing and the heedless way she scraped her nails hard across his skin and scalp that she had enough.

She heard the crinkle of foil again and felt him boost himself off of her just for a moment before he leaned down and joined her again, placing one rough hand on her knee to give himself enough room. And when he slipped into her, slowly, inch by inch, Elizabeth had to arch her back and tangle her fingers in the loose weave of the afghan just because she honestly didn't know what else to do with herself.

He smoothed her hair away from her face, bracing his weight on his elbows as his hips began to move steadily in an age-old rhythm. Elizabeth groaned and squeezed his sides, urging him to pick up the pace, and sweat broke out in beads along his brow as Jason struggled to maintain the slow, steady tempo.

She was growing restless beneath him, both from the rhythm of their dance and the strength of her impending release. And just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, she felt the force of his release roll through her in waves of heat, and Elizabeth jolted in surprise. Jason always tried so hard to push her to the edge first, but his muscles had already locked and he was gritting his teeth against the force of his passion. His release, once he was spent and partially collapsed on top of her, triggered her own, and Elizabeth's hips arched up off the floor with enough strength to lift both of them two full inches off the ground.

Jason had already had time to recover while she basked in the heat and light of her release, and he stroked her cheek gently as she floated back down. His eyes were half-closed, his head was resting on his arm, and he looked so peaceful that she couldn't imagine doing anything else but curling up into his side, pressing them both together from head to toe, and sharing the rhythm of his breathing.

"Jason?"

He murmured lazily in reply. "Hmm?"

She traced circles on his chest and hid her smile. "So you're making me breakfast tomorrow morning like you promised, right?"

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her crushingly close. "Just like I promised."


	37. Slip Of the Tongue

**36**

"Just like I promised."

She smiled against his neck and let out a contented sigh. "I do love you, you know. So much."

He attempted to kiss her forehead but only made it as far as her temple. "I know. I should have told you before…"

Sleep was starting to settle in as his hand moved in slow, soothing circles low against her back. "Told me what before?"

Jason was starting to nod off as well. She could tell from his slightly slurred words and the peaceful rhythm of his breathing. "That I loved you."

Elizabeth smiled, letting her eyes flutter shut. "I know you love me. And just like you said that I didn't have to say it when I said it, I'm telling you that you shouldn't ever feel like you have to say it. That's why we did this again slowly, and why we did it right this time. No acts, no pretending, no worrying about what anyone else thinks…no compulsion."

He shook his head just slightly. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I should have told you that I loved you a long time ago."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "And how long is a long time ago?"

"…Right around the time you jumped out of a moving car to get away from me…"

Her eyes shot wide open just as he was about to drift off. It couldn't be right. Since she jumped out of a moving car to get away from him? That was almost a year ago. That was when they were still married, for Christ's sake. That was before he taught her how to shoot, before they had sex at the Greystone, before she was kidnapped, before he rescued her, before the ugliness of their divorce.

Struggling out of his hold, she braced her weight on her elbow and stared down at him. "When I was trying to run away? Back to Boston?"

He grumbled something affirmative and lazily reached out for her, missing her warmth. "Mhrm."

Something in her brain clicked, and Elizabeth scrambled away before he could touch her. "Oh, my God."

If the bleak astonishment in her voice wasn't sufficient to rouse him, the fact that she was tugging the afghan out from under him was. Jason shook himself out of his groggy stupor and stared at her for a second before he had to roll onto his back as she succeeded in freeing the blanket, yanking it up and quickly wrapping it around her.

He swore under his breath as she stood and backed away, then reached for his boxers. Only when he was somewhat clothed – really, he hated having a conversation without wearing pants; he always felt that it put him at a disadvantage somehow – did Jason stand and look back at her.

She stared back at him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and the afghan lapping at her knees. Not knowing what else to do, Jason stood a few feet away with his arms loose at his side, waiting for her to speak.

"…You loved me since then." She worked her jaw and stared at him, elaborating when he didn't move a muscle in acknowledgment. "Since I jumped out of a car after you had Spinelli hunt me down."

There wasn't much he could say to that except what he truly felt. "Yeah."

Elizabeth let out a wavering breath, her eyes never straying from his. "All that time."

A flicker of something ran through his expressive eyes – amusement, embarrassment, hurt, she couldn't figure out which – and the corner of his mouth twitched just slightly. "All the time."

This wasn't happening. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They had the worst marriage possible, and it wasn't until Elizabeth thought it that she realized she had already said it aloud.

His lips thinned, but he nodded. "I know we did."

She felt the blood rush to her face, which was flushed already, and she just wanted to crawl into a hole in the floor. But now that she had said it, she figured she might as well get it all out.

"We never talked, we argued all the time, we did everything we could to avoid each other," she listed. "We used Sonny and Brenda as buffers, we sometimes went days without even seeing each other…"

Jason's expression didn't change. "I know."

Her eyes glistened, and her lower lip began to tremble. "How could love or anything like it even be possible in a marriage like that? How could it even survive?"

He shook his head. "I don't have an answer for that."

"Jason…" She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she'd most likely picked up from him. "The whole time we were married, I was looking and hoping for a way out. Just like I thought you were. I didn't want to be your wife anymore than I thought you wanted to be my husband. You admitted that you didn't want to be my husband or anyone's husband, remember?"

"I-"

"Jason, I _dreaded _you."

"I know," he replied honestly, taking one small step forward. "I'm just lucky you didn't hate me."

"There were one or two times I thought I did," Elizabeth responded without flinching. "But I never once thought that there was anything more between us – that there _could _have been anything more between us. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Jason's brow twitched. "You weren't ready to hear it. Even now, you're not ready to hear it."

Two fat tears escaped her lashes and trailed down her cheeks, and Elizabeth struggled to keep her words level and clear. She heard the understanding and sadness in his voice, and it just made it all worse. "All that time, you loved me."

He tilted his head to the side. "Yeah. I never stopped."

"When you dragged me home from the city, when we had to go those awful parties thrown by your associates, when you taught me how to hold a gun…"

Jason moved forward until she was within reach, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Elizabeth leaned into his touch despite clearly not wanting to, and he took advantage of her momentary lapse and slipped his arm around her waist until her head rested on his shoulder.

"When I took you to bed and promised I'd make you breakfast in the morning," he murmured as her silky locks brushed the stubble on his cheek. "When I had to go to a meeting before you woke up, when I heard that night on the way home that you were taken. When I searched for you, when I found you, when I brought you home…"

He didn't want to go on because he knew what happened next, and he hated bringing it up because the remarks he made during that argument were some of the ugliest things he'd ever said. "It was easier for everyone if I kept it to myself, that's all."

She sniffled, and he felt the wetness of tears against his shoulder. "But…all that time…you didn't want me to know."

Jason shook his head. "No. Honestly, I didn't even want to love you. Because if I loved you, it meant that I was invested in you, and it meant that it would hurt when you walked away."

"I still walked away," she murmured.

"I know," Jason allowed. "But if I loved you, it meant that I depended on you. To be there, to be okay, to maybe one day love me back. And I never had to depend on anyone. Even Sonny. He was my best friend and my partner, but I always tried not to depend on him in any other way. And then…"

Elizabeth sniffled again and looked up at him. "Then?"

He shrugged. "He got married. He started his family. And I realized that it was impossible to keep yourself from loving like that. I loved Sonny, I loved Brenda, I loved Michael, and I needed all of them to be safe and happy and a part of my life. And I accepted that. And I knew they knew how I felt about them. So when I fell in love with you…I knew I couldn't fight it or block it out completely. I just figured it would be easier for both of us if you didn't know."

She closed her eyes as his words sank in and his true reasoning became clearer. "All that time, you stayed quiet."

"Yeah."

She opened her eyes, looking up at him candidly. "Jason, I wasn't a good wife to you when we were married. And I'm not worth that kind of wait."

His lips curved just slightly and Jason rested his forehead against hers. "Why don't you let me decide that?"

Elizabeth chuckled despite herself and rested her palms on his cheeks, framing his face. "I never knew. I'm so sorry that I never knew. I could have saved us both so much time and pain and anger…"

But Jason shook his head. "I don't think so."

"W-What do you mean?"

"I think…it was meant to happen this way," he admitted. "People grow and things change. We changed. And I don't think you can expect two people – any two people – to grow and change at the same rate. I loved you. You didn't love me. I knew that, I understood it and accepted it. There was nothing I could have done to make you love me. That's not how it worked."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Well, you could have been your loving, funny, wonderful self and I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat."

He arched his brow. "Do you really think you would have?"

Elizabeth considered it and wrinkled her nose. "Probably not."

"Yeah."

"I was still in shock about the whole kidnapping thing and being forced to marry you," she admitted it. "I never would have thought that something like that could happen to me."

His arms tightened around her waist. "I know."

Elizabeth smiled to herself and shifted in his hold, lifting up on her toes to kiss his chin. "I'm sorry I freaked out."

Jason smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"You're right," she continued. "It doesn't matter who did or didn't say what in the past. I'm falling back into old patterns, like when we were still married. All that matters is that I know who you really are, and how kind and thoughtful and generous and amazing you can be. And that we're past all of our miscommunications and misunderstandings for the most part. And that we love each other."

He brushed his lips against hers and then paused to nibble on the bottom one. "Yeah, and it only took us getting divorced to figure that out."

He grunted when she punched him in the stomach. "Oof. Fine. Let me know when you're ready to laugh at it."

---------------------------

_Some time later…_

Elizabeth slid out of bed when the phone rang and grabbed it off the cradle. "Hello?"

She recognized the voice on the other end immediately and leaned against the little lounge sofa she kept in her bedroom. "Oh, hi. How are you? Can you talk? You're sure that no one else is around, aren't you?"

She smiled when she got the answer. "Good. Yeah, I can talk, too. How are you? How is everything? Oh, wow, that sounds awesome. I knew you'd be good at that. Uh-huh, I bet that's what he says. Yeah. I know. Yeah, he does that sometimes. Just ignore him: it drives him crazy. Uh-huh. Sure, you can do that. Let me know how it goes, okay? Yeah, yes, he is."

Elizabeth glanced at the bed and wrinkled her nose. "Oh, honey, I would, but he's fast asleep. Yeah. No. I think he's coming back this weekend, though, so you can see him then."

Jason grumbled something incoherent and turned over onto his side. Elizabeth waited until she was sure he was sound asleep once more before she spoke again.

"Yeah. I'll tell him to call you just as soon as he wakes up, okay? I promise. Yes, we are. I think your mom invited Johnny, too. Yup, all of us are coming to your place on the 20th. Think you can wait?"

She laughed at his answer. "Well, you just try, okay? We'll be there before you know it. And Spinelli's bringing Georgie, right? That's what I thought. Yeah. And Michael?"

She cleared her throat and waited until she was sure she had his full attention. "Honey, remember what your uncle and I told you, okay? You can't tell anyone that we're dating again. You can't even whisper it to us when we're over. You have to just pretend like we haven't seen each other in months, okay? Remember? Good boy, I knew you wouldn't. Okay. Yeah, he'll call when he wakes up."

Jason grumbled something else and let out a strained sigh, and Elizabeth slipped out into the hall so that he could have some peace and quiet. "So tell me about this painting your uncle tells me you're working on…"


	38. Before The Wedding

**Before the Wedding - Epilogue**

_A non-descript amount of time later (a few months, a year, whatever you feel it should be)…_

She had to get out of here.

Elizabeth looked around the massive bedroom, thankful at least that she had woken up alone in bed. Jason was nowhere to be found, thank God, which meant that she at least had a decent chance.

She had no idea where she was. That bastard hadn't told her. At night, she was drinking her champagne in snowy Manhattan, and in the morning she woke up in a strange room with the sun streaming in through the filtered curtains and warming the bed in which she lay.

All Elizabeth knew was that she had to get out of this room, out of this hotel suite or this bungalow or whatever the hell it was and get some answers.

A shower was in order but she was out like a flash. The cold water had jerked her wide awake and she was alert and ready to do what she knew she had to. She grabbed a pair of shorts, threw on a t-shirt, stepped into her comfortable Converse sneakers and crept out of the bedroom, her eyes peeled for Jason and her ears craned to pick up any sound of him.

The other rooms were quiet, but she didn't wait and explore them. Knowing Jason, he had already removed all pertinent information about where she was just so he could have a better chance of keeping her locked up here until he was ready to deal with her questions and demands.

She tiptoed down the long corridor and hoped to God that she could get to the front door before was spotted. She had no idea if he was still in the house or out somewhere; she just prayed that it was the latter and not the former. If he was away, she had a much better chance of getting out and getting some answers.

She couldn't believe he did this to her. Again He knew full well that it was cruel and unreasonable and that she would absolutely hate it, but he did it anyway! Bastard.

There was no one in the house. She was sure of it now. She didn't hear his phone ring, didn't hear his voice, his footsteps, didn't hear the clatter of dishes as he made her breakfast. Absolutely nothing. Just the sun and the birds and the soft breeze and the heat.

Elizabeth grasped the doorknob, turned, and peeked outside, half expecting to see him standing there waiting to thwart her inevitable escape attempt. At the very least, she had expected a hotel hallway, a verandah of some sort, a common courtyard, something of that nature, but what she saw instead was a modest back porch and a curving stone walkway that led out to a vast expanse of white sand. A massive body of water stretched out about as far as she could see, and Elizabeth sucked in her breath.

An island? Was it their island? She had been to their island a couple times and she had to say, she didn't recognize this place. Maybe he had taken her to the opposite side, purposely trying to throw her off track.

There was nothing to be seen, no land markers of any kind. There was no numbered mailbox, no house number, no street sign – hell, as far as she could tell, there wasn't even a street.

Well, this was it. Elizabeth licked her lips and ventured outside, stepping onto the stone walkway. Any minute now, an armed guard or a ferocious dog or, worse, Jason would come bounding out of nowhere and order her back inside. 

She growled under her breath and stalked forward. Not this time. She wouldn't be a wilting flower this time around, damn it. She was going to get her answers. And Jason was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

It was clear now that she was at the back of the house. There wasn't much to see around here, except for the gorgeous beach and all that crystal blue water. There weren't even any plants or shrubbery for her to hide behind, so Elizabeth just minced along the hot sand, thankful at least that it wasn't the slushy, icy mess she left last night in Manhattan, and did her best not to get granules into her sneakers.

She cleared the side of the house and the outlook became more promising. The property stretched out before her and she saw a large gate but thankfully, no armed guards. And the gate wasn't even locked: it was wide open. That was either really, really good or really, really bad. It was good for obvious reasons: it meant that she could make her escape and run straight to town and thwart his plans for her. It was bad because it meant that Jason was either still on the property or very close to it and didn't feel the need to lock the gate for such a short trip. 

She could see stores in the distance, buildings, signs, and a little town square with a water fountain. There were people there. People! People that could talk to her and help her! Elizabeth broke out into a jog, moving easily over the very gently sloping hill, and began racing toward the gate. She was so close, so freaking close she could almost taste her freedom…

"Elizabeth! Hey!"

She looked over her shoulder and squealed when she saw Jason standing on the front porch, glaring ferociously at her. He tossed down the morning paper and, barefoot and wearing only his pajama bottoms, began to chase her down.

"AAAAAAAA!!"

It seemed like the only appropriate response from a 5'2" woman when being chased down by six feet of muscle and intimidation. She ran harder than she ever had, determined to outrun him for once in her life. It wasn't fair: he always caught her. Wasn't she allowed to get away just once?

He was still a good distance behind her but gaining quickly, and Elizabeth forced herself to breathe economically and really push into her stride. Her gait loosened, her strides became longer and she neared the gate. She actually thought she was going to make it until-

His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her up in the air, swinging her forcefully and breathing hard. Clearly, he was not amused by her little stunt.

"NoNoNoNoNoNo!"

"Damn it, Elizabeth!" Jason growled under his breath and maintained his firm hold on her, refusing to set her back on the ground. She was still kicking, her feet swinging back and forth harmlessly between his spread legs.

"No, you can't do this to me!"

"Elizabeth, I-"

"No! You can't do this to me again! I want to know! I want to know where we are!"

She was still thrashing about when he decided – rather unwisely – to set her on the ground, and Elizabeth's leg caught around his and she sent them both crashing down to the long, soft grass. Jason slipped his hand under her head before she touched the ground, not wanting her to hit it, and grunted when he fell half on top of her.

Elizabeth glared fiercely up at him. "I shouldn't have trusted you. I knew this would happen."

Jason's crooked grin seemed almost mocking, but probably only because she was so irritated with him. "You're just mad because I got rid of anything that would tell you where you are."

That only made her scowl. "You know, when you asked me last night if I'd marry you-"

"Which you will," he interrupted with a particularly cocky smirk.

"And if I'd elope so we could do it this afternoon-"

"Which we will."

Her eyes narrowed. "I should have known not to make it so easy for you."

Jason arched a brow. "You think things have been easy for us."

That earned him a roll of her eyes. "You know what I mean. I agreed to everything and anything you said last night-"

"Because you love me and you know I'd never do something I knew you wouldn't like," he helped her along.

She didn't appreciate the suggestion. "I should have put up more of a fight. And not stood for your mysterious 'trust me' initiative. How did you get me here, anyway?"

"You fell asleep last night after we left the Black Pearl," he reminded her gently. They had been celebrating their engagement in a dark, cozy little booth at her favorite Manhattan bar. He asked her to marry him there, and he even pushed for them to forgo the respectable engagement period and get married the next day.

"Did you get me drunk on purpose?"

Jason let out a laugh. "You weren't drunk. Just very, very tired."

"So how'd you do it?"

"You fell asleep, I carried you onto the plane," Jason shrugged. "Simple."

"Jason Morgan…"

"And you were still asleep by the time we got here, so I just put you to bed and made sure I grabbed everything that said where we were."

Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. "But I want to know. Don't I at least have a right to know where I'm getting married?"

His grin widened. "No."

Elizabeth's only response was to smack his chest and thump her heels on the grass. She was being childish and she knew it, but, damn it, today was the day she was going to marry the man she loved for the second time and for all the right reasons, and she just wanted to know where they were and why he was being so secretive about it. If she had been able to get to town, she would have been able to know for sure.

"How could you do all this without even telling me about it?"

"I told you what I was going to do," he reminded her. "I told you that I wanted to marry you today and that if you trusted me, I'd take care of everything."

"But I didn't think you'd go all Mission Impossible on me," Elizabeth burst out. "You didn't let me in on anything. I didn't get to know anything for our first wedding, either – I didn't even know we were getting married until a little before Father Coates arrived. This time was supposed to be different."

Jason smirked. "Nice try."

Her lips thinned; the damn man knew her way to well. "Fine. The least you can do is be a sport about it."

"How?"

"Can I guess? Can I at least guess where we are?"

Jason considered it. "…Fine."

"And you have to tell me if I'm right," she warned.

"Maybe."

It wasn't the answer she wanted, but she could only glare at him in way of reprimand and accept the terms he offered.

"We're on the island."

He snorted. "You think I'd take you to the island to get married? You hate the island."

"I actually really like the island," Elizabeth shrugged. "I just hated being sent there alone and against my will."

Jason rolled his eyes. "More and more like Brenda every day…"

"For your benefit, I'll pretend I didn't hear that," she informed him archly. "So, we're…um…in Mexico?"

"Nope."

"…Florida?"

Again, he snorted. "I would never get married in Florida."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Almost lost a hand in that state while on assignment. Not going back unless I have to."

She wrinkled her nose at the awful thought and quickly pushed on. "Okay, we're…on the West Coast. California? Hey, yeah, you have interests in Vegas. We're in California, aren't we?"

Jason shook his head, and the corner of his mouth curled up. "Wrong. Want a hint?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Well…" He lowered his face toward hers and just when she thought he was going to kiss her, Jason made a detour to the shell of her ear. "Think farther east."

"We can't be on the East coast," she replied, trying not to arch her neck when he tickled her with his lips. "It's too warm here."

"Farther east," he repeated.

"…You mean, across the ocean?"

He flicked her earlobe with his tongue. "It's a start."

"…England?"

"Too rainy. Too cloudy."

"…France?"

"Nope."

His lips moved down to her neck, and Elizabeth arched her back and turned her head, granting him full access to her throat. "Jason…"

"Haven't guessed it yet," he teased. "Give up?"

She raked her fingers through his sandy hair. "Jason, please."

"More hints?" He toyed with a lock of hair, curling it around his finger as he nipped at her chin and kissed her cheek, her nose, her temple, and everywhere else. "Think warm climate."

She tilted her pelvis up, bringing it solidly to rest against his, and wiggled underneath him. "Well, that's pretty obvious."

"A warm climate that's good for growing grapes and citrus," he murmured, sounding a lot like one of those travel books he loved to read. "And…think lakes and beaches."

"That's a lake?" With her eyes closed, she didn't even glance at the azure waters just behind them. "I thought it was the ocean."

"Lake Bianca," Jason replied. "One of the largest in this region. Think…olives. The language of love. Wine."

"Ooh…"

"…The greatest artists of the world, the birthplace of the Renaissance."

Her eyes shot open and she gripped his shoulders. "Jason – Italy? You brought me to Italy?"

He grumbled when she attempted to sit up and managed to coax her onto her back once more. "We're in Marianni in Tuscany. Some of the best Chianti in the world, and just an hour away from Rome and all the things you've wanted to see your whole life."

She brushed his hair back from his face and gazed up at him. "How did you ever – Michael."

Jason smiled warmly down at her. "Michael."

Elizabeth blushed, feeling the warmth of the Tuscan sun and his adoration seep through her body, and wrapped her arms around her fiancé's neck, pulling him down for a scorching kiss. "Oh, I knew there was a reason I loved him so much. And you're not all that bad, either."

---------------------------

Johnny and Spinelli were teaching Michael how to play jacks, and the boys were sprawled out on the floor by Sonny's desk at Harborview Towers. Brenda entered the room from the kitchen and found her husband on the couch with his paper as mayhem ensued.

"Boys!" 

Johnny nearly toppled over her dainty little end table when he went crawling after the ball, and the boys all looked up at their hostess.

Brenda rubbed her temples and managed a smile. "Do you think you guys could take it down a notch or two?"

"Sure thing, Goddess," Spinelli replied, sweeping the little plastic jacks together after they had been scattered by Michael's frenzied grabbing. "Don't worry, jacks is a quiet game."

"Sounds like it," she muttered, walking over to the couch and flopping down next to her husband. She elbowed him in the ribs and gestured to the boys. "And you wanted to have more kids."

"What?" Sonny asked, not seeing the problem. "We can handle raising some more. There's nothing to it."

Brenda would have smacked him right then and there had not her favorite bodyguard opened the door and announced his presence. "Hey, Mister C? Mrs. C?"

"What is it, Max?"

He held an envelope in his hand bearing no address or postage. "This just arrived for you. It came with the files you wanted, so I handed those off to Stan and brought this up."

"Thank you, Max," Sonny replied. "Johnny?"

The boy pushed himself off the floor and took the letter from the guard. "No postage or anything," he noted, ripping it open with his nails as he walked over to where Sonny was sitting. "Look, just a note inside. It's from Jason."

Sonny took it from him before Johnny could do more than recognize his mentor's scrawl. "Let me see here."

"Is it really from Uncle Jason?" Michael wanted to know. He bounded over and stood at his father's knee. "What's he saying?"

Brenda looked over her husband's shoulder as Spinelli and Max gathered close around the couch. "This is really weird – he never sends notes. Huh."

_"Sonny and all," _Sonny began to read, _"I'm not going to be reachable for the next two weeks. Have Ritchie take over my work and put Max on it if you need to. Don't try to call me or get in touch with me any other way."_

"Rude," Brenda sniffed, resting her chin on her husband's shoulder. "And intriguing. And tempting!"

_"By the time you get this, I'll already be gone."_

Johnny snorted. "So dramatic, that one."

"Shush, Interloper," Spinelli cut in sternly. "We do not mock Stone Cold's words. Continue, Mister Corinthos Sir."

"Glad I have your permission," Sonny replied dryly. _"By the time you get this, I'll already be gone. Elizabeth and I-"_

He choked on the words, and had to make absolutely sure he read that right. Around him, Brenda, Johnny, and Spinelli were similarly stunned.

"The Fair One?"

"What's he doing with her? They broke up again a long ass time ago."

"Language," Brenda warned him, settling a hand on a suspiciously silent Michael's head. "And what do you mean, again? They're divorced."

"No, he wanted to see her again, she turned him down, they broke up again," Johnny explained. "For God's sake, finish reading it."

Sonny was already done, having skimmed ahead while they bickered, and was now shaking his head in bafflement. "I can't – I don't know – how the hell did he-"

"Oh, give me that." Brenda huffed and snatched it from him. "Let's see…_Elizabeth and I are…getting married."_

Her head snapped up. "What?!"

_"Elizabeth and I are getting married,"_ Johnny read over her shoulder, clearly having no patience of her hysterics. _"We took my jet and by the time you get this, we'll probably already be married. She sends her love to the family and the boys. See you in a couple of weeks. Jason."_

They all sat in stunned silence for a long moment until Brenda exploded again.

"WHAT?! They got married?" Her head snapped back and forth as she looked at first her husband and then the boys. "How didn't we know about this?"

"He never told me," Sonny replied defensively. "He never said anything about seeing Elizabeth. I'd try to bring her up sometimes and he'd just shut down like he always did, so I figured it was done and didn't try after that. How the hell was I supposed to know that he was getting ready to marry her?"

"You're only his best friend," his wife replied witheringly. "And what about you? Goober and Gomer? What do you have to say?"

"I call Gomer," Johnny replied, folding his arms over his chest when Spinelli shot him a pained look. "And trust me, we had _no _idea he was going to do this."

"I told you idiots to stick to him like glue and help him move on with his life," Brenda accused. "Naturally, that meant that you were to relay all such information of him moving on with his life to _me_."

Sonny gaped at her. "…_What_ did you do? Are you really that…"

He couldn't find a word to describe her extreme nosiness, and Brenda was tired of waiting for him to figure it out. "Yes," she snipped before turning back to the boys. "You mean to tell me that you lived on the floor above him and that you lived with him, for Christ's sake, and neither of you knew that he and Elizabeth were together?"

Spinelli and Johnny were flabbergasted. "We did exactly what you said, Goddess," Spinelli insisted. "We didn't give him a minute to himself, we always tried to keep him distracted and focused on what we were doing so that he wouldn't be sad or lonely…"

"I swear, we did tons of shit to make him feel like he always had to tail us," Johnny promised. "Hell, we even lied about getting into trouble just so he'd tell us that we weren't going anywhere without him. We did everything, but…When the hell could he have found time to see Elizabeth?"

"Maybe he didn't see her," Spinelli suggested. "Maybe – Maybe they had to get fake-married again because – because-"

"Give it up, Spinelli," Sonny groaned. "If they had to get fake-married, like you call it, the first thing Jason would do is tell us. And he wouldn't take a few weeks off for his honeymoon. My God, they're going on a _honeymoon_."

"This is so wonderful," Brenda eked out, barely able to keep her tears in check. "Oh, I gave up hope on those two and then they go do this….Elizabeth didn't even tell me anything! Can you believe that? I'm only her best friend! Ooh, I wonder if Kate knows…no, if she knew, she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. Oh, I have so many calls to make!"

"You're not calling anyone yet," Sonny told her. "Not until we figure out what happened."

"They got married, that's what happened!" she burst out. "That stupid, stupid, stupid man got that equally stupid girl to marry him. Eek! I have to make a list of everyone I need to tell…"

"That's the part I'm not looking forward to," her husband admitted as Johnny nodded sagely.

"Why not? It's most splendiferous news, Mister Corinthos Sir."

Sonny broke out in a grin even as he covered his eyes with his hand. "Because now I have to tell the heads of the Five Families that Jason went and remarried the same woman he married under false pretenses just so that they would protect her. I have to tell them that they once again have to welcome into the fold the couple that they all railed against when the news of the divorce first broke."

Brenda's lips curled into a smirk. "Wow. Sucks to be you."

"I can't believe he didn't tell me," her husband muttered. "Would it have been so hard? _Sonny, I've been seeing Elizabeth and we're going to get married. Handle the damage with the Families for me._ We've been best friends and partners for years – he's Michael's godfather, for crying out loud – and he still doesn't tell me."

"You think you feel shafted?" Spinelli asked incredulously. "With all respect where it is due, Mister Corinthos Sir, the Jackal is Stone Cold's most amiable sidekick and trusted confidante. We have been together through thick and thin. We're like Mozart and Salieri – okay, no, we're like the Lone Ranger and Tonto. And you don't mess with the Lone Ranger, or otherwise Salieri's gonna put you in a world of hurt, or-"

"Why don't you take a minute to regroup?" Johnny suggested. "And you think you've got it bad? I'm his damn protégé. He groomed me to be an upstanding businessman; he groomed me to be a-" He glanced at young Michael. "Uh, a coffee salesman; and he groomed me to be a man. I've been taking all of my advice, personal or otherwise, from him, and he goes and does this? Shit, man. Does this mean I have to propose to Nadine?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "No, you don't need to go propose to Nadine."

"Are you sure? Because I can't tell anymore."

"Look, we're all mad that he didn't tell us," she reasoned, looking around at the little group. "We're his family, we're his closest friend, I'm the one that worked my butt off trying to get them to behave nicely toward each other when they were married, but still…"

She huffed her bangs out of her eyes. "So did not see this coming."

Michael giggled at that, and all eyes fell on him.

Johnny arched a brow. "Something funny, little man?"

His cheeky grin was answer enough. "I knew it was gonna happen. I knew that Uncle Jason and Lizabeth were gonna get married again."

Spinelli rolled his eyes. "Peanut, the last time you said that you knew they'd fall in love and get married, it was because they had to. We explained this to you, remember?"

Michael lifted a single shoulder in reply. "I still knew."

"Yeah?" Sonny's eyes narrowed as he studied his son, and Brenda was growing suspicious as well. "How?"

His grin widened. "Because they called me and told me before they left."

"WHAT?!"

**The End.**


End file.
